Tempus Fugit
by Myno.1fan
Summary: After the war The Golden Trio find a way to go back and right the many wrongs they had to endure. But they soon become the victims of circumstance and find that things are never as black and white as they expected. Eventual romance. Set post Battle of Hogwarts but non Epilogue compliant. HR/TR RW/OC some HP/GW.
1. I

**Author's Note: This is set after the war, but is non epilogue compliant (obviously). It starts off a bit dark and depressing, (well compared to my usual style which is more humor over substance) but will pick up from there. The earliest chapters are, I feel, needed to set the scene for the rest of the story. This is a time travel story, which means it will branch off and become very AU. This is a Tom Riddle/Hermione Granger story about circumstances and how they can shape the future. Anyway, enjoy.**

 **Disclaimer: I in no way have any claim over any of JK Rowling's characters. I am merely a huge fan, posing a great big 'what if'.**

The war was over; it had been for nearly a year, and the dark lord was gone. Yet, nothing had returned to normal, nothing was ever the same again. Harry had lost so much, they all had. But nothing came close to what the Weasley family had to endure. The physical injuries that Bill and George had received in the war were nothing to the emotional and psychological injuries left behind.

So much was lost. Fred was gone, the Gryffindor trio had watched and could do nothing. Poor Ronald had watched his first sibling die. Then Harry had walked into the forest to seemingly sacrifice himself. This had been another emotional blow for the family, to be losing another they thought of as a son, a brother or in Ginny's case, her great love.

Of course, Harry had come back to them safe and sound. But Ginny was never the same. Nobody noticed at first, all too wrapped up in their own grieving. Eventually it was Harry who expressed his concern. Ginny stopped spending time with him, isolated herself from her family and her friends. When Hermione stayed, her own parents lost to her forever because of the irreversible memory charm she had used to ensure their safety, she reported that Ginny suffered intense nightmares and barely had a whole night's rest.

Molly Weasley tried to talk to her daughter, to get her to open up, but it was all still too raw for both of them. Hermione and Harry often thought 'if only'; if only they had tried harder to draw the younger girl out of the emotional well she was caught in, if only they had realized how far the girl had sunk into her depression.

It was a warm July morning when the owl that changed everything had arrived at the Burrow. Nobody knew what to believe at first. They had all demanded Hermione, who had still shared a room with the youngest Weasley, to account for why she had let Ginny leave. They, in a way, blamed Hermione for not trying to stop her. Hermione hadn't even been awake. She hadn't known the younger girl had gone. How could she have known that Ginny would sneak out at night and would never ever come back? But grief can make even the best meaning nicest people act a little unreasonably.

The funeral was what really pushed the whole Weasley family over the edge. Ron, in particular, took it very hard. He had barely spoken two words since Ginny left. Any possibility of he and Hermione having any sort of relationship were over. He could hardly stand to have her in the same room as him. He blamed Hermione, much as his whole family seemed to, because he needed someone to blame. He needed to believe that it was someone else's fault. He couldn't accept that bad things could happen for seemingly no reason at all.

Molly Weasley lost her glow. She had always seemed okay, even in the darkest times during the war. But with the loss of one of her sons followed so closely by losing her only daughter, the strain was too much. Most days she didn't make it downstairs to cook breakfast. Most days she didn't make it downstairs at all.

Household responsibilities fell to Arthur, who had lost weight and looked gaunt and miserable. There was no jolly twinkle in his eye, no excited enthusiasm for anything. Not even the odd muggle contraptions Harry would send to try and spark something, some modicum of positive energy, in the numbed man.

It had become clear that Hermione was no longer welcome to stay with the Weasley family. They seemed to barely even tolerate Harry, who had previously been the golden child. Ron certainly didn't want to have much to do with them. He barely acknowledged their presence in a room, although he barely acknowledged much of anything anymore. Instead, the dark haired wizard and his muggleborn best friend were forced to seek out each other for company, and solace.

Harry had taken over number 12 Grimmauld Place, gradually cleaning it up with Kreacher's help until it was habitable once more. Hermione moved into a spare bedroom and together they tried to move forward. Harry was the only family Hermione had left, and vice versa. They were close like they had never been close before and together they spent many hours cleaning out remaining dark artifacts and objects left behind by the Black family. It was something to do. Something to focus on that did not give them time to dwell on other things.

Harry keenly felt the loss of his godfather when it came to cleaning out his old bedroom. He seemed unable to rid himself of anything from the room, which had taken on the dusty quality of a museum, rather than the cozy warmth of a bedroom. Kreacher tried to keep the house spick and span, but it didn't take a house elf expert to realize that the elf was beginning to give over to his age; even the simplest task of dusting wore him out.

Eventually, rather than forcing Harry to part with the objects that reminded him of someone he had cared for so deeply, Hermione had helped Harry box up some old clothing and trinkets into containers that they shrunk down and put into the closet and Harry had moved into Sirius's bedroom shortly after.

It was when they were clearing out Regulus's room that they had come across the dusty withered old tome. Harry had picked it up gingerly, about to toss it into the fireplace, where they rid themselves of many pieces of junk that they could not be bothered to box up and send to the thrift stores in Diagon Alley, when Hermione had reached out and grasped his wrist.

She was instantly taken with the thing, still being a bookworm deep down. The pages were yellowed with age and it seemed that a stiff breeze could blow them into oblivion, and the material cover was so discolored that the title was almost indecipherable; _Forte in Aliud Tempus._

It had taken Hermione months of research, and many visits to book shops in Diagon and Knockturn Alleys, to be able to decipher what the book was telling them they could do. _Si prius non inpetravi conatus sum tempus iterum._ If they did not succeed the first time, they could try again.

Each page of the book, held together with every protection charm Hermione knew, was cluttered with Latin phrases, translations in cramped handwriting, and drawings of runes. Hermione had become obsessed with one idea, and one idea alone. They could go back, they could right so many wrongs.

Harry, for his part, was a little less taken with the idea. He had tried to explain that it was dangerous to mess with time. But every time he thought of an argument against what had become known as 'the plan' Hermione, or rather the book, had an answer to allay his fears. Eventually he had just given up on arguing at all and had decided to humor Hermione.

Soon the dining table in Grimmauld Place was littered with pages upon pages of Hermione's research. She had sheets of parchment dedicated solely to every possible meaning of each Latin word and phrase. She had rolls of parchment completely taken up with runes and breakdowns of spells. Often Harry would go to bed, leaving Hermione leaning over the book reading only by wand light well into the night. So possessed was she by the idea of being able to change everything.

One month passed, then two, then three. Christmas was spent sitting in the stiff backed chairs at the table, pouring over her notes. Neither of them had received an invite to the Burrow for the holidays that year, neither of them had expected to. Hermione promised that this would change once they had fixed everything. Harry wanted to believe her.

Finally, Hermione had given a yelp of surprise, knocking over a teetering pile of books on runes, time travel and Latin dictionaries. Harry was so startled by her sudden noise, so accustomed was he to spending long days in silence reading, that he had dropped his cup of pumpkin juice all over the floor.

"I've got it, Harry." Hermione had jumped up excitedly, dodging the juice puddle and shoving a dictionary into his hands. "Do you see?"

Harry, for his part, could not see what had the girl so worked up with excitement that she was practically bouncing. It was just another book full of more cramped up Hermione notes, and words he didn't understand.

"Look." Hermione urged. "It confirms everything. We can go back."

This was not a new idea to Harry, Hermione often told him of how they could do it, change their fate and make life better. Sometimes, Harry also lost himself in the idea of a better life. One where he wasn't the savior of the wizarding world. One where he wasn't so alone. But this was the first time Hermione had smiled in months, so he looked down at the book in his hands again, not wanting to end this tiny glimpse of the girl he had known in school, a happy Hermione.

Heavily underlined in black ink were three simple words, that Harry had no way of understanding the significance of.

"A new life?" He queried, glancing at Hermione to see if he was on the right track.

"Yes!" Hermione's smile grew bigger. She pointed to another page. "And here…"

"Somnus sine mente." Harry read. "Sleep without mind."

"Don't you see, Harry?" Hermione looked frustrated with how he hadn't instantly known what on earth she had to be excited about. "This solves everything. We don't go back as ourselves. We move into the body of another!"

Harry balked at those words.

"So _if_ we go back we take over someone else's body?" He had caught on to what she was saying. "Great, so we cease to exist as Harry and Hermione."

"Yes!" Hermione was getting impatient. "We can't mess up our timeline by being recognized or anything like that. There won't be two Harry's and Hermione's. There will be us and them!"

"Yes, but we take over the bodies of two poor unsuspecting people." Harry was quick to point out. "What happens to them?"

"Somnus sine mente, Harry." Hermione said as if it were obvious. "Sleep without mind. It sends us into the body of people who have lost their minds. Coma patients. Vegetables. Something like that!"

"What if there are no coma patients." Harry pointed out. "Then where do we end up?"

"There are billions of people in the world, Harry. Statistically there will be two who have lost their mind somewhere."

"But what if there aren't?" Harry enunciated slowly, trying to drive the point home that this was a bad idea.

"Then it simply doesn't work." Hermione pointed to a rune she had scrawled in the margin of the page. "This rune is the _domus_ rune. If our consciousness's don't find a host, they are drawn home back to our original bodies."

Harry decided to change tact.

"How can we guarantee we end up in the right time?" Harry pointed out.

"Simple." Hermione shot Harry a triumphant ghost of a grin, "we draw the _tempus_ rune on an item of the time we want to end up in."

"And you just happen to have an item from that time?" Harry didn't know why he bothered to argue, as Hermione fished through her mounds of research and pulled out a yellowed back dated copy of the Daily Prophet. A moving picture of the darkest wizard of the time flashed up on the paper, before disappearing again, the charm to make pictures move slowly wearing off over time.

"Okay, so let's say we go back, we wake up in the bodies of two people somewhere in the world. How do we find each other?"

"I've been thinking about that, and I think we should practice wandless magic. You know, in case we wake up as muggles without wands, which is likely. Then we can wandlessly apparate to an agreed point to meet up."

"How do you know we will be able to use magic at all?" Harry pictured trying to fight Voldemort with a muggle gun and heaved a shudder at the thought.

"Here." She pointed to another rune. "This is the rune for self. We go back as ourselves, wholly ourselves, just into another body."

Harry shook his head, handing the book to his friend and sighing wearily. "I just don't know Hermione. There are too many if's."

"Harry." Hermione gently touched his arm. "I can't stay here. I can't accept that this is it. I can't live in this reality and move on with my life…"

Everything Hermione was saying Harry understood, he had felt exactly the same way a lot of the time.

"What do we have to lose?" Hermione prompted, pointing first to herself and then to Harry. "Think of what we can gain. Sirius back, your parents. My parents. The Weasleys…"

Hermione knew she wasn't being fair, tempting Harry with the idea that he could have a family again. Especially as she hadn't shown him the last rune, the most intricately inscribed one in the old Forte in Aliud Tempus book.

"So what happens to the timeline then?" Harry asked, not quite wanting to concede, even though he was steadily losing his fight. "Let's say we change everything. There is no war, no Voldemort, no dying. Then what? We just slip back into our bodies and act like we haven't changed? The younger versions of ourselves won't have felt war. They will be happy. We can't just take over their lives again. It wouldn't be fair. And what happens to this world? Does it just disappear?"

Harry was struggling to voice some very deep concerns, concerns Hermione herself had felt at first.

"This world ceases to exist for us. We move into a new reality, to a separate path. According to all my research every time people make a decision, the path of time splits into two branches. We take the other branch, we create a new timeline. I don't know whether this one continues or not, only that we won't be on it. Everything that has happened from the point we go back to, no longer happens. Hermione Granger and Harry Potter no longer exist, or should I say won't exist until the 80's. We have a new life."

"If we are changing the past how do we know we will even come to exist at all?" Harry pointed out. "Will we even have a life to come back to?"

"That's just it, Harry." Hermione said slowly, her voice dropping to barely a whisper. "Even if we are never born because of the changes we make, it doesn't matter. Because we can't ever come back."

Hermione cringed as Harry started pacing the room, full of furious energy.

"Then what's the point?" He hissed angrily. "Why even bother?"

"We can stop all this suffering before it even begins, Harry!" Hermione snapped in frustration. "Yes, we might not get to reap the benefits. But isn't it worth it? We don't make the better world for ourselves, we make it for everyone!"

Harry ceased his pacing and looked Hermione dead in the eye, his green orbs swirling with pent up emotion. "If I say no…" He didn't need to finish the thought.

"I'm doing it anyway." Hermione said.

"You'd risk everything, our whole lives, the whole world…"

"I don't want this life anymore." Hermione looked at Harry with such pleading desperation in her eyes he had to look away in order to voice his next thought.

"We should tell Ron we're going."

Hermione visibly blanched at the mention of their other friend, but at the same time felt a little relieved that Harry had seemed to give up on arguing with her.

"But…"

"We should tell him."

"I know." She sighed, weary from so many turbulent emotions. "But I can't do it."

"He's our friend."

"He wants nothing to do with us." Hermione pointed out. "And I think if we both went and said goodbye, even if it's to try and change his family's fate, he wouldn't be able to get past it. He's lost so much already…"

Harry could see her point of view, but he was quick to point out. "So we disappear without a word… What would that do to him, Hermione?"

Hermione nodded her understanding, then reluctantly voiced the other option they had.

"We could…" She swallowed the ball of strangled emotion in her throat. "We could send him an owl. After we've left."

"No." Harry said firmly. "That family has had enough bad news by ruddy owl post. We tell him, face to face, or we don't go at all."

Hermione nodded her ascent, her eyes transfixed on the floor. "Okay."

 **Author's Note: Well, let me know what you think…**


	2. II

**Author's note: Well, I was too excited about this new story idea that I decide to provide more than one chapter.**

 _ **PREVIOUSLY:**_

" _We could…" She swallowed the ball of strangled emotion in her throat. "We could send him an owl. After we've left."_

" _No." Harry said firmly. "That family has had enough bad news by ruddy owl post. We tell him, face to face, or we don't go at all."_

 _Hermione nodded her ascent, her eyes transfixed on the floor. "Okay."_

… … … _ **.. … …..**_

Hermione sat in the living room of the Burrow, feeling very out of place. There was a time when she had felt welcome, when the house was a warm and happy place full of laughter and a family who all cared for one another very much. Now it felt as if there were an ominous cloud of bad feelings forever situated above Ottery St Catchpole.

Across from Hermione sat Ron, refusing to make eye contact. He, like his father, had lost weight and his skin had taken on a sallow quality. Rough stubble adorned his jawline and under his eyes were dark marks, like he had not slept in the months since Harry and Hermione had last seen him. The only sound in the room was the steady ticking of the large grandfather clock, that rather than showing the time showed the location of each member of the Weasley family. Two hands pointing to 'Lost' was a painful reminder of exactly why Hermione had hatched a plan to go back in time in the first place.

Harry, when they had arrived at the Burrow, had insisted they both go up to pay their respects to the family matriarch. It had been an awkward encounter at best, with Molly Weasley hardly even acknowledging their presence in her bedroom. She had been dressed in a tattered old robe, her hair a matted mess, and had two knitted Weasley jumpers clutched in her hands, one blue with the letter F, the other a pale mauve with a G.

After trying but failing to draw Molly into conversation, Harry and Hermione had given up and gone off in search of the reason they had paid a visit in the first place, one Ronald Billius Weasley.

"So you're leaving." Ron had said gruffly when they had outlined 'the plan'.

"We have the chance to make things better, Ron." Hermione tried to explain. "We can stop everything bad from happening."

"You're leaving." He said in the same flat voice. "Running away."

"We want to fix things." Harry, at least, was trying to help.

"You can't fix things." Ron glanced over at the grandfather clock. "They're gone."

"But if we stop Voldemort before he rises, then they won't be." Hermione tried again. "Fred will be okay. Ginny…"

"Don't you dare say her name!" Ron was suddenly standing; he fists balled at his sides. "Don't ever say her name again."

"Ron…" Hermione was silently cursing Harry for insisting upon speaking to Ron before they went ahead with the plan. "I miss her too."

"You should have stopped her." It was the first time a member of the Weasley family had outright said what Hermione had known for going on a year; they did blame her for Ginny leaving.

"That's not fair mate." Harry warned Ron.

"What about you, then?" Ron turned to Harry with his accusing eyes. "You're leaving as well?"

"Hermione is right." Harry also glanced at the clock, the significance of where Ginny and Fred's hands were pointing not lost on him. "If we go back we can make it better."

"But you can't come back…" They had told him the whole plan. "So yeah, great, maybe Ginny and Fred and Remus and Tonks and everyone comes back. But you two are gone."

Hermione sighed, she had tried to explain the whole second timeline thing to Ronald, but she knew he was unable or unwilling to understand. As much as he wanted his old life back, pre-war, he couldn't let go of the past. It was a daunting, yet at the same time enticing, prospect to wipe out everything that had happened and start again.

"They will have never left." Harry supplied, trying to vocalize an idea that even he found hard to grasp. "You won't remember any of them dying, because it won't have happened. None of the bad stuff will have happened. The only ones who will remember will be the ones who go back."

"And you can live with that?" Ron asked venomously. "You can sit back and watch Ginny live and grow up and marry someone else because there won't be a Harry Potter anymore?"

"There will be a Harry and Hermione." Hermione tried yet again to explain. "It just won't be us."

"I'd rather live in a world where Ginny doesn't know me than in a world where there is no Ginny at all." Harry blurted out with rare tears in his eyes.

Ron nodded sharply, then turned away from the pair of them and walked over to stand by the cold and empty fireplace, his face scrunched up in deep thought.

"What if you go back and become some 97-year-old Muggle on their deathbed?" Ron asked suddenly.

Harry glanced over at Hermione, looking to her for the answers. Hermione pulled the battered book from deep within her robe pocket, that had been treated to an undetectable extension charm, and laid it out on the table before them all. Turning to about halfway she pointed out a few runes.

"This one's is the rune for self." She explained for Ron's benefit, Harry had already been shown this. "And this one here is the rune _Aetatis Idem_."

Hermione pointed to a circular rune with a smaller runic symbol inside.

"And these two are the ones for Somnus Sine Mente." Harry nodded his understanding.

"The three of them together roughly translate as…"

Ron cut her off, looking down at the page. " Aliquem in saeculo aetatis idem, somnus sine mente. Anyone in the world the same age, who is asleep without mind."

Hermione looked at her red headed friend in surprise. "How did you…"

"I don't know. I think I read it somewhere." Ron shrugged apathetically.

In the past, Hermione or Harry might have stirred Ron with a quip about him ever picking up a book that wasn't about quidditch, but they knew that those days had long passed.

"So we take over the body of someone around our age who has lost their mind." Harry stated, trying to ease some of the tension in the room.

"That's the gist of it." Hermione supplied.

"Well let's hope there are three comatose teenagers somewhere in the world then." Ron pushed the book back over to Hermione. "Or this plan of yours will fail before its even begun."

"Three?" Hermione queried, not knowing if she should dare to hope.

"I'm going with you, obviously." Ron said dryly. "Anything has to be better than here."

Harry grabbed his male best friend and pulled him into a grateful hug, slapping him on the back a few times for good measure. Hermione smiled at the two of them with tears welling in her eyes, feeling emotional. Ron wanted to come with them. They would be the golden trio again. Maybe he could even come to be in the same room as her without sending her an accusing look once in a while.

"So how long will this all take?" Ron asked, gesturing vaguely to the book on the table. "I mean it can't be easy or anyone would just do it."

"Oh, it's not easy, and it's very illegal." Hermione assured him, looking to between her best friends nervously. "The runes need to be drawn in a very specific order, we each need to be holding a runed item from the time we want to end up in, and we have to prepare the ink from a solution of acromantula venom and phoenix tears, which can take a month or so and…" Here Hermione dropped off, knowing that neither of the boys would like the last requirement for time travel.

"What is it, Hermione?" Harry asked, suspicion at her sudden silence clouding his expressive green eyes.

"We sort of… well... we have to die."

"What?" Ron looked at her with fury, even Harry looked taken aback.

"Didn't think to mention that part, did you?" Ron was livid. "I can't do that to my family."

"It's the only way to move between the branches of time." Hermione insisted. "It's in everything I've read. It's like reincarnation. We die, and then wake up as someone else. It's the way of changing time without creating a paradox. There will never be a double up, because Hermione, Harry and Ron won't exist anymore."

"I don't like this." Harry said quietly. "But if it's the only way…"

"It is!" Hermione assured him, showing the most intricate of runes in the book, the one she had been keeping from Harry since she had first started pondering if it was possible to change time. "It says right here, 'vitam post mortem'. Life after death."

Harry nodded, turning to Ron to see whether he would come over to the idea any time soon.

"I'm not going to die." Ron glared at them, as if daring his friends to argue. "Unless I talk to mum and dad first."

Harry and Hermione sat together in the living room, waiting for Ron to finish speaking to his parents. It was a rather strange request, but Hermione understood where Ron was coming from. They had already lost two children unexpectedly. It would be beyond cruel to not at least warn them of what they were trying to do. They deserved to know, to be forewarned, of what was to come. Mostly she was surprised that Ron was still going ahead with the plan, even though it meant having to die.

"Wait a minute," Harry said, breaking the tense silence in the room. "You said if we can't find a host body we come back. How can we come back if we are dead? Unless we only properly die in this timeline if we make it to the other…"

Hermione smiled, proud of her friend's deductive reasoning. "Yes, if we don't find a comatose body to take over we simply wake up like nothing at all has happened."

"How do we die?" Harry asked, turning his part curious part weary gaze on her.

"The ink for the runes." Hermione reminded him.

"Acromantula venom and phoenix tears." Harry supplied. "Both very expensive by the way."

"You can afford it." Hermione rolled her eyes at his complaint. "Well, we don't exactly draw those runes on the ground. We draw them on ourselves. With the poisonous ink. The phoenix tears will stop us from bleeding to death, healing the runes as faint scars. Nobody will even be able to see them on our bodies after the deed is done. And if we don't pass through to the other timeline then the tears will null the effect of the poison. It's quite ingenious really."

"You got all that from a book in a language you don't read?" Harry looked skeptical.

"I really am very good at what I do." Hermione teased, knocking her shoulder into his.

"If you two are quite done." Ron's voice said stiffly from the doorway. "I'm ready to go."

 **Well, there's chapter two done and dusted.**


	3. III

**Author's note: Chapter three is here. This is the last chapter of their former lives as the old Harry, Ron and Hermione. After this they will be back in the past. Enjoy. Oh and thanks to my first reviewer. It was in Spanish, but google translate assures me it was a nice comment so thanks. I appreciate the support. Anyway, Enjoy.**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

" _You got all that from a book in a language you don't read?" Harry looked skeptical._

" _I really am very good at what I do." Hermione teased, knocking her shoulder into his._

" _If you two are quite done." Ron's voice said stiffly from the doorway. "I'm ready to go."_

… **. ….. ….. ….**

The acromantula venom and phoenix tears, as expected, had been hard to find and very costly. Harry had dipped into his copious Gringotts savings to fund the purchases, but it had still taken longer than they would have liked for Slug and Jigger's Apothecary on Diagon Alley to locate the rare items they needed.

So as not to draw suspicion, for these particular items were only used in a handful of mostly illicit potions, they had each ordered small amounts, amongst much larger regular orders of other potions ingredients. The spare ingredients they sent via owl to Hogwarts as a donation, gladly received by the staff there, whilst they kept the important ingredients for themselves.

Once enough of the ink ingredients had been collected to draw the required runes on all three of them, Hermione had set to work spending long days bent over her cauldron and muttering instructions under her breath. The boys mostly left her to it, knowing their presence would more likely be a hindrance rather than a help. The brewing instructions were precise and took the better part of a month to complete. The combination of venom and tears was supposed to create an almost translucent silvery liquid that could be used to ink any quill, and Hermione fussed constantly at how hers did not appear silvery enough, or if it was too opaque.

Ron, preferring to spend as little time as possible around his other two friends, had set to researching the outcomes of famous quidditch matches and also muggle horse races by visiting book shops and muggle libraries. It had actually been his idea to solve the problem of how they would live in another time without any money or family to rely upon. Oftentimes he would return to Grimmauld Place, where he too had taken a spare room, well after dinner time and would trudge upstairs and close himself in his room without a word. When he was present at meal times, they were spent in silence with his nose pressed firmly into a book. Clearly, he was still not ready to forgive Hermione or Harry for what he perceived to be their parts in what happened to Ginny.

Harry, having had the most dealings with Voldemort over the years, had agreed to research the Dark Lord. In particular, he paid constant visits to Hogwarts and used Dumbledore's old pensieve, reliving various accounts of You Know Who through the eyes of people who had known him. The three had agreed, somewhat begrudgingly on Ron's part, that as Hermione was in charge of safely and successfully transporting them to the past and Ron was in charge of finances once they got there, that Harry would be the one to make all decisions regarding Lord Voldemort.

Harry, Ron and Hermione had all been practicing wandless magic in their, admittedly sparse, spare time. Once each was satisfied that they could at the very least apparate without the need for a wand, they worked on trying to perform certain defensive spells wandlessly as well. Harry was the best, being able to produce his corporeal patronus as well as a somewhat decent shield and Ron surprised the other two by being able to fire off hexes with a startling precision. Hermione managed to summon a flimsy shield that barely held its own against Ron's barrage of hexes, but could summon and banish small items better than anyone.

Finally, in late September neither Ron, Harry nor Hermione could find any more conceivable reasons as to why they could not leave yet. The ink was ready and stoppered in a neatly labelled bottle. The three items from the time they were headed to each bore a tempus rune; a rolled up newspaper, a book published that same year and an old quidditch magazine Ron had found. Ron had memorized every sporting event outcome humanly possible. Harry's head was stuffed full of every memory of Voldemort he could find. Hermione knew the exact layout of the runes and the incantation to activate them like the back of her hand. It was time, they were ready.

"I say we do it tomorrow." Ron announced over dinner, when Hermione had pointed out their state of readiness.

"That soon?" Harry was startled. "Surely we could use a few more practices at wandless apparition."

"We really are ready Harry. I don't think there is anything else that can be done on this side. We _can_ leave tomorrow, if you both agree. There's no reason not to." Hermione said placating.

"I said goodbye to my family nearly two months ago. I'm ready to go." Ron said forcefully.

"Well what identities do we use when we get there?" Harry asked, clearly relieved he had found an unanswered question.

"I've thought about that, and I think so long as we don't use our last names, which in both your cases are too recognizable being from old Wizarding families, we are pretty safe to keep our current ones. And we can claim to be refugees from the continent, as I understand a lot of wizarding schools at the time had to take on refugees although there was no record of Hogwarts ever getting any. We will change that."

Harry and Ron both shot her perplexed looks, clearly not following along with what she was saying.

"I will be Hermione Jean, dropping the Granger. Ron, you will be Ronald Billius and Harry…"

"I will be Harry James. I suppose at least I won't need to learn to answer to a whole new name."

"Ugh." Ron groaned. "Why did my mother give me Billius for a middle name?"

"Well unless you have a better idea of a name that you will easily remember to answer to you will just have to put up with it. If anyone wants to ask about our lives up to coming to Hogwarts we can claim that we are too traumatized from being refugees and don't want to talk about it."

Ron sniffed indignantly, but neither boy could offer up a better solution so he was forced to accept everything Hermione was saying.

"Well, since that's settled, we should all go get some rest…" Harry suggested in an effort to ease the tension between his two friends. He didn't need to add that tomorrow would be a big day, all three of them knew it.

Sleep came intermittently for Hermione. She tossed and turned, her mind running over the task before her constantly. Sooner than she would have liked the shadows in her room grew shorter and a sliver of light beamed through the gap in her curtains. Reluctantly she rose and padded downstairs to find both Ronald and Harry sitting at the kitchen table ignoring the steaming plates of breakfast Kreacher had obviously laid before them moments before.

"Does Master Harry's mudblood friend want breakfast?" Kreacher appeared next to Hermione, motioning for her to sit down. In the past Kreacher would have meant this degradingly, however they had long since figured that he mostly referred to Hermione out of habit rather than residual bad feelings.

"No thank you, Kreacher." Hermione responded. Her stomach was in knots and she did not think she could keep down any food, even if she tried to.

"Thanks, Kreacher." Harry said dismissively, waving the withered old house elf away. "We'll call if we need something."

Hermione rested her chin on her folded hands and looked at the boys each in turn. Ronald had deep dark marks under his eyes, hardly unusual for him, but they seemed almost darker like someone had punched him in each eye socket and left bruises. Harry didn't look much better, his own eyes red rimmed and full of worry and nerves.

"When…" Harry didn't need to finish his thought; they all knew what he was asking.

"We probably shouldn't delay." Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat.

"Right." Ron said, standing up and pulling his shirt over his head to reveal the naked flesh underneath. "Let's do this then."

Hermione stood in front of Ron surveying her canvas, his bare chest, with a critical eye. She needed to draw the runes just right or it could end in disaster, and the more she thought about it the more nervous it was making her feel. Soon her hands, feathered quill gripped tightly, had begun to shake.

"Hermione." Ron said softly. "Calm down. You can do this. You are the smartest witch of our age, soon to be their age. Just take a deep breath and draw."

Hermione nodded, and did as he instructed. Dipping the quill into the silvery liquid in the inkwell she began working. She tried not to notice Ron's quick intake of breath or how the ink sizzled against his skin leaving angry red lines. Soon his entire chest was covered in the intricately designed runes, and it was time for the next step. Hermione passed him the old quidditch manual and gave him a sad smile.

"Concentrate on the quidditch book." Hermione told him.

"Hard to concentrate." Run spat out. "Burns!"

Hermione nodded her understanding, turning her wand on him.

"It will be over really soon." Taking a deep breath and summoning as much magical strength as she could, Hermione shouted " _Mortemhoc tempore!"_

A brilliant burst of silvery light shot forth from her wand, and momentarily enveloped Ron. Both Hermione and Harry shielded their eyes, but the light was short lived. The runes inscribed on Ron's chest glowed momentarily silver as if they had absorbed all the light from the spell before they suddenly began to heal before their eyes, leaving behind only the faintest of scars. Ron's face seemed frozen in a sort of surprised expression before he fell forward. Hermione and Harry both rushed to their friend's side, turning his body over.

"He's not breathing!" Harry shouted, shaking Ron's body furiously.

"Then it worked." Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding, and then glanced down at Ron's outstretched hands. "The quidditch book is gone."

Harry tremulously nodded, standing up and turning to Hermione. As much as what he had seen happen to Ron frightened him, he wasn't one to let his friend go through something alone.

"Do me." He said flatly.

Hermione slowly repeated the process of drawing the runes on Harry's pale chest. To his credit he barely even flinched as the ink burned into him, leaving the same red motif it had on Ron. Harry simply nodded at Hermione when she turned her wand on him.

" _Mortemhoc tempore_!"

Harry's body joined Ron's on the floor, the book he had been clutching in his hands was gone and he too appeared to be dead. Rather than surprise, he wore a look of grim determination. Hermione was the only one left now. Turning to the pantry door Hermione spoke quietly, as if to herself.

"You'll remember to do as I asked?" There was no reply, but Hermione didn't need one.

It was time. Hermione removed her own blouse and raised the quill to her skin. Taking a deep steadying breath, she gritted her teeth and touched the pen to her chest. Pain like she had never experienced before lanced through her from the tip of the quill. Experimentally, she moved the quill in a broad stroke, and it felt like she was tearing herself apart. A silvery red line was left where she had drawn. Not one to be deterred, even by the horrible burning sensation she was experiencing, Hermione continued to draw the patterns upon her skin. Once she had finished the last stroke, she heaved shuddering sigh and dropped the pen to the ground. Wordlessly, she summoned the rolled up newspaper to her and then turned her wand upon herself.

" _Mortemhoc Tempore_!" she roared, closing her eyes tightly against the blinding light that hit her almost as soon as it left her wand.


	4. IV

**Author's Note: Hello, sorry I didn't update yesterday. 1 – I was working 2 – I came home sick and passed out on the couch for a solid 12 hours. Pretty much the same thing has happened today. I'm going to try and give you two updates instead of one to make up for it, however, my beta (my supportive mother who knows nothing about Harry Potter and has to have things explained frequently to her) is unavailable at this stage so until I can pop round to visit her, or pull myself off of my couch, thus there may be mistakes running rampant.**

 **From this point in time the story will be largely told from Hermione's perspective. It pretty much already was, but now she will really be the main focus.**

 **Enjoy.**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

 _It was time. Hermione removed her own blouse and raised the quill to her skin. Taking a deep steadying breath, she gritted her teeth and touched the pen to her chest. Pain like she had never experienced before lanced through her from the tip of the quill. Experimentally, she moved the quill in a broad stroke, and it felt like she was tearing herself apart. A silvery red line was left where she had drawn. Not one to be deterred, even by the horrible burning sensation she was experiencing, Hermione continued to draw the patterns upon her skin. Once she had finished the last stroke, she heaved shuddering sigh and dropped the pen to the ground. Wordlessly, she summoned the rolled up newspaper to her and then turned her wand upon herself._

" _Mortemhoc Tempore!" she roared, closing her eyes tightly against the blinding light that hit her almost as soon as it left her wand._

… … … … … … **. … … … … …**

Hermione awoke aware of quiet muttered conversation nearby. Her mind felt foggy and she couldn't quite make out what the people were saying. She wanted to open her eyes but for some reason they appeared to be glued shut. Experimentally, she tried to move her hand but it felt heavy and somehow disconnected from her mind.

'Oh great.' Hermione thought. 'I've come back into a body that doesn't work.'

Summoning all of her strength, Hermione tried once again to move her hand. This time it twitched. This encouraged Hermione to continue trying. It took the better part of ten minutes and many failed attempts before she was able to slowly raise her hand to her face and gently probe at her eyes, feeling rough and dried out sleep gathered along her eye lashes. Softly, as there was not much strength in her hands yet, Hermione rubbed at her eyes removing the offending substance and was able to pry them open.

The room she was in was dark, with all the curtains drawn closed. She was the only occupant; the voices she still couldn't quite make out having evidently come from the doorway opposite her bed. Beside where Hermione lay there was a visitor's chair, empty, and next to that an old wheelchair; battered from constant use. There was a faint smell of disinfectant lingering in the air, reminding Hermione of the Hospital she had visited when she was young and her grandmother had been ill. Hermione didn't much like hospitals.

Hermione looked down at her body now, tucked securely under a thin white blanket. Laying on her chest was a rolled up copy of the Daily Prophet, no longer yellowed with age but rather looking brand new as if just freshly printed, but still appearing to be the same issue she had clutched in her hand when she did the spell. It seemed, to Hermione, that the spell had worked. She could vaguely recall the book saying that the item they returned to its time, would be as new again. Or something along those lines. She was still finding it hard to concentrate. Slowly, she tucked the newspaper under her pillow so that it would be hidden from prying eyes.

Just as she had hidden away the magical artifact, the door to the room banged open, causing Hermione to instantly clamp her eyes shut. She was supposed to be a mindless coma patient after all. Peeking from between her lashes surreptitiously, Hermione saw that two orderlies had entered the room, dressed in white tunics, white pants and even white shoes, although one of the orderlies had evidently spilled some sort of fluid on his tunic as it was discolored yellow. Both were tall, broad shouldered dark haired men with very little to distinguish themselves from one another other than their tunics. The one in the stained tunic walked over and grabbed the wheelchair, whilst his cleaner compatriot poked Hermione forcefully in the side.

"Wake up, girly." He said gruffly. "It's a new day."

When Hermione pretended not to hear him, still believing that she should be comatose and therefore not responsive, he gave her another forceful jab in the side.

"I said wake up!" He yelled in her face. "You have to get up now."

"Don't shout at her." Stained Tunic said stoically, joining the other orderly at Hermione's bedside. "Come on, love, time to get up."

The two orderlies between them pulled Hermione into a seated position and she snapped her eyes open with irritation.

"God, I don't like when she looks at me with them eyes." Clean tunic grumbled. "Freaky, they is."

"They're jus' eyes." Stained tunic turned Hermione so that she was sitting on the edge of the bed. "Come on, time for the bathroom."

Hermione's bathroom routine, it appeared, revolved around the orderlies lifting her into the wheelchair and them rolling it into a small bathroom across the hall. They left Hermione in there with strict instructions to bathe herself.

She could just make out clean tunic's gruff voice muttering to his friend "I hate the shell shocked ones. Bloody useless."

"They can't help it." Was the soft reply. "But still, it's a waste."

Hermione was left alone in the bathroom then. She attempted to raise herself out of the wheelchair, but found her limbs still felt heavy from disuse. Instead she used her hands to pull herself over to the shower and turned the water on. At this stage, given her new body's apparent weakness, it seemed a very bad idea to try and apparate away. So instead she washed herself from in the wheelchair, removing her white hospital gown and scrubbing with a bar of soap over her small pale body.

After about ten minutes the orderly with the stained tunic had returned, and seemed surprised that Hermione had apparently bathed and redressed herself in the hospital gown without his help.

"You're getting good at that." He smiled a set of crooked teeth at her. "Come on, then, let's get you back to your room."

Hermione, relishing in her new found freedom of being left alone in her wheelchair, did a few slow laps around her room before gazing at her small feet. Willing them to cooperate, she tried to wriggle her toes. It took time, but soon she could move all her toes with apparent ease, and had graduated to trying to put weight on her pins and needles numbed feet. It appeared there was nothing wrong with her body physically. It just hadn't been used much, in a long while, she was guessing.

Using the wall for support, Hermione struggled to her feet and took a few experimental steps. She nearly face planted a few times, but eventually managed to stagger over to her bed and pick up a clipboard bearing her medical chart. Leaning heavily against the bed, she surveyed her prize. At the top of the chart was a small crest, that bore the words 'Hotel des Invalides, Dijon' however everything written upon the chart appeared to be in the Queen's English. Or, Hermione supposed, the King's English given the time period.

'So I'm in France.' She mused. 'In an English speaking hospital.'

Hermione skipped over the name on the chart, but read the remainder. She appeared to be 15 years old, and had been admitted to the hospital at the age of 12. The chart stated in bold letters: Shell shocked, non-responsive. Can follow some basic commands. Requires constant care.

Hermione sighed with relief. Although the runes she had studied had appeared to guarantee that she would both end up a similar age to herself and would take over someone who had already lost their mind, it was still comforting to know that she wasn't taking over from someone who had so much more life to enjoy, and that the spell had been performed correctly.

Hermione replaced the chart on the bed and slowly ambled over to the far wall, where a dusty mirror hung crookedly. Her walking was getting better, as if the muscles had just needed a little reminding of what to do. Steeling herself, Hermione glanced in the mirror.

"Well that's different." She said aloud, her voice scratchy from disuse, and also sporting the slightest of French accents.

Her face was small and pale, probably from having seen so little daylight in the hospital, and her features were delicate. A button nose, small pursed lips, high cheekbones. The most startling thing were her eyes, the palest of silver, reminding her of the running ink she had used what seemed like only hours before but each iris was ringed by an inky black swirl. The orderly had been right, her eyes were startling; freaky. The unfamiliar eyes were lined with dark lashes, and her pale face was framed by intensely curly dark brown, almost black, hair. In looks, she sort of reminded herself a bit of a young Bellatrix Lestrange, a thought that caused a deep involuntary shudder. But, she also looked somewhat softer; And very young. Had she not read the chart she would have guessed much younger than fifteen years old.

She was small in stature, small in everything really. It was very different to what Hermione had left behind, yet at the same time, there was also something vaguely familiar. The hair, for starters, strangely resembled how Hermione's had sat later on in her life, and was really only a few shades darker than her old chocolate hue. And when Hermione tentatively smiled at her new reflection she groaned upon seeing that her two front teeth were somewhat larger than the rest. That was one trait she had been glad to be rid of back in her fourth year at Hogwarts. Malfoy's poorly aimed hex had been a blessing in disguise.

Hermione was snapped out of her reverie by the sound of voices. It appeared that the orderlies were on their way back down the hall. She had two options, to risk apartition and go meet up with Harry and Ron as planned or to wait and see what they wanted with her. Hermione glanced at the door and saw that the men had paused just outside and appeared to be arguing over something.

"Doc says we got to give her the jabs." The gruff voice of clean tunic was easily recognizable.

"They make them fuzzy, these drugs. It ain't right." The other voice, what Hermione assumed to be Stained Tunic's, argued back.

"They're already fuzzy! They're bleeding brainless vegetables!" clean tunic.

"They're worse on them drugs!" stained tunic.

"Well the doc says we gotta do it." Clean tunic.

So they wanted to heavily medicate her. Hermione knew that if she remained in the hospital under heavy sedation the likelihood of her being able to find Harry and Ron by the time the drugs wore off would be very slim.

Hermione heard the slow turning of the door handle, and in an instant made up her mind. Drawing as much magical energy to her as she could, she thought of her destination and disapparated with a faint popping sound, leaving behind an empty room, and two very confused orderlies when they entered a split second later.

"Where the heck did she go?"

 **Author's note: Sorry this one was a bit shorter than intended. But hey, at least there's another one coming…**


	5. V

**Author's note: And here, as promised, is the next installment. Again – not beta'd so forgive any weird mistakes. I'll get them fixed up once I've seen my mum. Enjoy.**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

 _Hermione heard the slow turning of the door handle, and in an instant made up her mind. Drawing as much magical energy to her as she could, she thought of her destination and disapparated with a faint popping sound, leaving behind an empty room, and two very confused orderlies when they entered a split second later._

" _Where the heck did she go?"_

… … …. …. ….. ….

Hermione opened her eyes to see that she had reached the apparition point of a very crowded Diagon Alley. Looking down the length of the wizarding thoroughfare, she saw that it was very, _VERY_ crowded. School age teens were everywhere, with slightly hassled looking parents calling after them and hurrying to and fro. Hermione gathered her white hospital gown around her a little tighter, embarrassed to be wearing so little, but without a wand she had no way of transfiguring something better.

Someone bumped forcefully into Hermione's back, and she muttered a quiet, still slightly French accented – though thankfully nowhere near as heavily as Fleur's – apology and began walking down toward Gringotts Bank. She had very explicitly told Harry and Ron that this would be their meeting place. It was the least conspicuous place she could think of to apparate into, and it wasn't unusual to see young people waiting for lost parents on the ornate marble steps of the wizarding world's largest bank.

Hermione was struggling to push her way through the crowds. Her new body was small, and not very strong, and the temptation to banish people out of her way wandlessly grew stronger and stronger. To add to her frustration, it appeared as if she were being followed. At first she had thought it was all in her head, but her senses told her otherwise. If she paused, judging a gap in the immense crowd, the person following would also pause. If she darted to the left, so would her follower.

Soon Hermione was clenching her fists in frustration, she just couldn't seem to shake her pursuer. Turning abruptly, she raised her fist in what she hoped was a menacing way and yelled.

"Stop following me!"

The tall boy behind her gave her a startled look, like a rabbit caught in some very confronting headlights, and opened his mouth as if to argue but then decided better of it. He was at least a foot taller than Hermione, with pale weather beaten skin, rough stubble along his square jaw line and penetrating dark eyes. His hair was cut short but appeared messy still. He was wearing a very muddy dark green padded jacket and his pants were dark with moisture, as if he had been submerged waist deep in a pool. The look he gave Hermione was unsettling.

"My parents are coming, and they will be super mad if I tell them you've been bothering me." Hermione improvised, hoping this would scare him away.

"Sorry." He muttered, his cheeks heating up a little, he slowly added with the slightest hint of a European accent. "I was going to the bank."

"Oh." Hermione felt her own cheeks warm, and pulled the hospital gown she wore a little tighter in her embarrassment. "Sorry, then."

The tall boy smiled at her, and waved away her apology with a gloved hand. It was this hand that caught Hermione's attention. Clutched in it was a very new looking book, a very familiar new looking book. Hermione heaved a huge sigh of relief.

"Harry?" She asked quietly, causing the boy to give a very surprised start. "It's me."

"Hermione?" He queried, looking slightly unsure. "Oh thank Merlin."

Hermione grabbed his sleeve and tugged him into a small recess between two shops. She couldn't hide her huge grin or pure relief at having found her friend so quickly.

"Where's your paper?" He asked, enunciating slowly to try and rid himself of the ever so slight accent that still tinged his speech.

Hermione gave a frustrated yell. "I left the blasted thing in the muggle hospital I woke up in!"

Harry nodded quickly, dropping his voice lower. "It doesn't matter. Muggles just see a normal paper. So if they find it, it's okay."

Hermione let out a breath, glad that her slip up hadn't caused something drastic, like the outing of the magical world.

"Have you seen Ron?" Harry asked her, scratching nervously at his cropped hair.

"I wouldn't know, would I?" She snapped, then apologetically rubbed Harry's arm. "Sorry. Stressful day."

"Tell me about it," Harry grumbled, "At least you got to wake up in a hospital."

Hermione opened her mouth to ask Harry to explain, but then shook her head and grabbed his hand, tugging him back out into the crowd and in the direction of the bank. They together in silence, the boisterous nature of the crowd making it impossible to hear one another even if they had wanted to speak. To passers-by they might have appeared like father and daughter, the difference in height so pronounced, but Harry's new face, under the mud and stubble, still bore the softness of youth. Soon they had made it to the steps of the Wizarding bank, and they sat down, Harry placing his book on his lap in plain view so that Ron would be able to see it when he arrived.

"Do you think Ron will get here soon?" Hermione tentatively asked her friend, who looked like a complete stranger now.

"I hope so." Harry sighed, then turned to Hermione. "I know it's stating the obvious, but merlin you look different."

Hermione flashed him a slightly buck-toothed smile and responded. "So do you. I'm guessing soldier."

Harry shuddered, and reluctantly nodded, his dark eyes clouding slightly.

"In Russia." He affirmed, "On the front line."

Hermione raised her hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her gasp, and nodded. She had read all about the front line during muggle primary school. She knew some of the horrors it had entailed, and sympathetically rubbed Harry's arm one more.

"I woke up in France. In a mental hospital, I think. My body was a shell shocked girl, who had lost her mind at age twelve." Hermione conveyed this information so quickly and quietly that Harry had been forced to lean in to hear her.

"I woke up in a trench, surrounded by soldiers. I think a grenade had just gone off, or something, because the side of the trench had a crater and was burning. I was some feet away from the others, some of them were groaning, some were dead… I was…unhurt. It took a while for me to be able to move again, but I disapparated as soon as I was able."

Hermione nodded, and without thinking laced her fingers through his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. His hands were rough and calloused, and completely enveloped her own small pale ones.

"So do you think it worked?" Harry asked eventually. "Are we in the right time?"

Hermione stood up and walked over to a passing wizard, tugging on the corner of his robe to get his attention.

"Excuse me," She said very politely. "Can you tell me the date?"

The wizard gave Hermione an annoyed look, but gave his wand a wave anyway, muttering the incantation under his breath. A glowing date appeared before them. _July 27_ _th_ _, 1944._

"Thanks." Hermione muttered to the wizard's retreating back. She returned to her friend and sat beside him once more. "Yes, Harry. I think it worked."

Ron didn't show up until the crowds were starting to seriously thin and the shadows along the alley had grown long, darkening the shop fronts so that clerks were forced to light floating candles in their window displays. Harry and Hermione had not realised it was him at first. Probably because he was not alone.

The boy approaching them had appeared to be an average height wizard with plain features and sandy blonde hair. His eyes were wide, somewhat dazed looking and blue. He wore muggle slacks and a plaid shirt under open wizarding robes with a short brown wand poking out of his pocket, and hovering uncertainly nearby was a plump sandy haired woman who could only be described as his mother.

As he reached Harry and Hermione, still sitting against the side of the bank, he tossed something at them, which Harry caught deftly with one hand. It was a brand new quidditch manual.

"You would not believe the day I've had." The boy said, with an unaccented English voice.

"Ron?" Hermione queried, although the evidence of the quidditch magazine pointed toward this being correct.

"Yes." Ron said, dropping down next to them and pulling out the short wand from his pocket. With a wave he had cast a muffliato charm, so that anybody trying to listen in would hear only a slight buzzing sound.

"Who is the woman?" Harry asked, eyeing her nervously.

"My bloody mother! Turns out this daft idiot…" He gestured to himself, "went and obliviated himself. Right proper too, apparently he had been sitting in a bed in St Mungo's staring at the wall for several months. Gave them a right shock this morning when I turned around and asked what the date was. That bloody woman has been hugging me and crying ever since. It took hours for me to convince them I'm fine enough that they'd let us leave."

"This is bad." Hermione gave them both a worried look. "People know you. They will know you're not…" She too gestured to Ron's body. "Him." She finished lamely.

"Well that's just it." Ron smiled cheerily. "They just think I don't remember anything because of the spell. Apparently it was a right miracle 'I' woke up, and so they've just taken my newfound personality in stride it seems."

"That's brilliant." Harry slapped his friend on the back. "And you have a wand."

The woman standing politely off to the side suddenly called out to her son. "Rommy, didn't you want to visit the bank today?"

Ron groaned. "She's a bleeding nightmare." He complained. "She won't let me out of her sight, always crying and carrying on about miracles. Telling me how much she loves her ickle Rommy. Telling me she's going to buy me a great big present."

Harry grinned, "Yeah, sounds awful."

"Well, the present things okay. Anyway." Ron stood up dusting off his pants, "My name is Romulus Ganymede, apparently. Godawful name, but there it is. I'd better go before the old bat gets suspicious. Watches me like a hawk that one. Almost as if she's afraid to let me out of her sight."

Hermione and Harry stood up also.

"How are we going to get on with the plan if you have to hang around with your mother?" Hermione asked worriedly.

Ron reached into his pocket and handed them each a glistening gold galleon.

"One galleon each on the Chudley Cannons match for tonight." He said quickly. "Trust me, it's a sure thing. I'll come back tomorrow, and we can spend your winnings together."

Ron strode away, grabbing his mother by the hand and tugging her into the entrance of the wizarding bank. Harry and Hermione could just make out the older woman querying who 'Rommy' had been talking to.

"Refugees." Ron curtly replied, hurrying her away.

Hermione entered the wizarding bank with trepidation, following Harry through the two sets of burnished bronze doors and up to one of the long counters. Behind the counter, on a tall stool, sat a goblin who looked wrinkled and old; even by Goblin standards. His shining nametag read ' _Bodunk'._

"Hello, we'd like to place a galleon each on the Chudley Cannons for tonight's match." Harry told the goblin.

"A galleon each way." Bodunk smirked at them, clearly trying to do them over.

"No. A Galleon each." Hermione corrected. "Two bets."

"You must be of age to place a bet here." The goblin said nastily, looking down from his perch at Hermione with a nasty glint in his eye.

"I am of age." Harry said, pulling a set of tags from under his jacket and preferring it to the goblin, "So I'll place one 2 galleon bet."

Hermione glanced at the date of birth stamped on the tags and doing some quick mental arithmetic worked out that Harry was twenty years old. The goblin sniffed, clearly coming to the same realisation Hermione had, and passed Harry a parchment betting slip to fill out. Harry carefully wrote ' _Harry James – 2 Galleons on Chudley Cannons to win.'_ And handed it back to the goblin.

"The odds are 317 to one against you." Bodunk smiled evilly. "Good luck. You can listen to the game on the wireless over there. It started ten minutes ago."

Harry and Hermione both sat in stiff wooden chairs, leaning in to the Wizarding Wireless radio perched on a stand between them. The match was well underway, and the Cannons were down two goals to nil, against the Wimbourne Wasps, that year's favourite according to the commentator.

"Chaser McClintoc goes in for yet another goal, Cannons keeper moves to intercept, misses. Another goal for the Wasps. That's 30 points to Cannons' nil."

Harry and Hermione both groaned. The Cannons from their time had been under a seemingly endless losing streak, and neither Harry nor Hermione could seem to recall when that had started.

"I sure hope Ronald was right about this." Hermione muttered.

"You mean Romulus." Harry corrected. "He did a lot of research. Give it a chance."

"And McClintoc in possession, passes to Bentley, Bentley dodges a bludger sent his way by Gibbons, Bentley shoots, blocked by Cannons keeper Bledgerly. Cannons in possession, Wimple to Smythe, Smythe passes back to Wimple, Wimple back to Smythe, Smythe back to Wimple. Oh Come on! Wimple and Smythe still playing catch. McClintoc goes for the intercept, misses, Wimple shoots for the Wimbourne goals Oh, brilliant save by Wasps Keeper Chelsea Davies."

The game continued in much the same fashion, the Wasps gaining a tremendous lead, and with every goal they scored Hermione looked more and more tense.

"Blythe in possession, passes to Wimple, passes back to Blythe. Oh not this again! No, Blythe passes to Roderick, Roderick shoots, scores. That's the Cannon's first goal for the night. The score is 130 to 10, Wasps in the lead."

"Romulus said to trust him." Harry could read the frustration emanating off of Hermione like waves.

"He better bloody be right." She quipped. "Or I'll kill him."

"Goggins in possession, dodges a bludger, then another, passes to McClintoc, McClintoc to Bentley, Goggins running interference with the keeper. And that's another goal for the wasps. That's 140 to 10. But wait, what on earth is Cannon's seeker, Melanie Hertzberg, doing? She's landing on the field, people. She's walking over toward the Wasps goal posts and she's, my god, she's picked something up off the ground. It's… it's the snitch. Hetzberg has the snitch. Wasps captain Davies looks furious. She's arguing with the referee. But no, the ref is allowing it. Cannons win 160 points to 140."

Hermione and Harry looked at one another blankly, clearly both shocked by this outcome. Finally, identical grins broke out on their faces. Harry rushed over to Bodunk's counter, proffering his now valuable betting slip. The goblin was reluctant to hand over the small mound of gold, but eventually did so with a pinched up expression. He clearly did not like losing a bet.

"I'm never doubting Ronald Weasley…er…Romulus Greymead or whatever it was…every again!" Harry had filled his pants pockets with as many galleons as he could, handing the remaining to Hermione.

"Six hundred and thirty-four galleons does not a fortune make, Harry." Hermione pointed out. "And I'm pretty sure it was Romulus _Ganymede_."

Harry shrugged and followed Hermione back out onto the street. It was now dark, and some of the shops had glittering closed signs adorning the door. It was apparent that soon they would all close, although they still may have had time to visit one or two shops.

"So what's next?" Harry asked. "Do we try to get wands, or go rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron?"

"I need to sleep." Hermione stated. "I'm just mentally exhausted. We'll go to Ollivander's first thing in the morning, with Ron. You know he'll want to brag about the winnings."

 **Author's note: So I agonised for days over how they would get money to live on. I have read a lot of stories where they go running to Dumbledore and he magically solves everything, and that's fine but it still doesn't explain how they'd get there in strange bodies without wands, how they'd live before school etc, so that was the only way I could think of doing it that didn't involve a great big deal of money laundering.**

 **Finally, I revealed the date they were travelling to. Obviously it had to be the 40's, because of Tom Riddle, but I didn't want to give away what year straight away because what is life without a bit of mystery.**

 **Also, I spent long hours planning out what bodies they would wake up in. Because of the time, I desperately wanted someone to wake up in the trenches. It just made sense, where else would someone young readily lose their mind. I also liked the idea of someone who had been shell shocked in the bombings, but wanted to make them foreign so I went with French. The Hotel Des Invalides is in Paris, not Dijon, but I was using my artistic license there. Ron, I wanted someone to wake up in St Mungo's because I just thought it would be too funny. I have a lot planned for Ron. He will be a sort of comic relief. The whole tone of the story will be a whole lot less dark from here, maybe even a little humorous at times.**

 **Anyway, I will start working on yet another chapter.**


	6. VI

**Author's Note: Since I appear to be on a roll, here's a third chapter! (This is written the same day as 4 & 5\. Then rewritten four hundred times because I just can't seem to be happy with it.) I really hope you are enjoying the story so far. I have so many ideas for how this will go. I have even dropped tiny hints about these ideas in earlier chapters. But anyway, I hope you enjoy.**

 **I'm dedicating this chapter to my lovely Spanish reviewer (Who Google Translate assures me only says nice things), and all you other lovelies as well. It never fails to bring a smile to my face to see those emails popping up, and encourages me to keep on writing. So thanks!**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

" _So what's next?" Harry asked. "Do we try to get wands, or go rent a room at the Leaky Cauldron?"_

" _I need to sleep." Hermione stated. "I'm just mentally exhausted. We'll go to Ollivander's first thing in the morning, with Ron. You know he'll want to brag about the winnings."_

… … .. … . . .. . .

Hermione rubbed sleep out of her eyes for the second time in two days, and slowly sat up. She was in her room at the Leaky Cauldron, a small but comfortable affair that abutted Harry's, and her body felt well rested and had lost some of the aching that had kept her awake for several hours the night before, until a deep sleep had finally claimed her.

Taking her time, Hermione climbed out of bed and padded across the room to the only other piece of furniture, a mirrored dresser atop which a basin of warm water, spelled to stay at a pleasant temperature, awaited. Hermione splashes water on her face and then glanced in the mirror, meeting her own pale eyed gaze. Her dark hair had become bushy from being slept on, and Hermione tried to comb some fingers through it but found it to be a fruitless task.

Shrugging, Hermione tightened the hospital gown, still her only item of clothing, around herself and turned to the door. She would wake Harry, and together they would go down to buy some breakfast. The rooms had already eaten up three of their galleons, but Hermione was confident they would be able to afford some basic supplies, clothes, wands and food with what remained.

Harry, too, had slept in his clothes which had thankfully dried out, but left a smattering of dirt on the bedsheets. Hermione waved her hand to banish the dust across the room and under the dresser. Harry took a little longer to wash his face, having to scrub off layers of dried mud. The innkeeper, a tall man who looked not dissimilar to the Hogwarts Caretaker of their time Argus Filch – but who seemed to be in better temper than his 90's counterpart, had left a razor and a dish of shaving soap for Harry. Without the stubble, Harry looked years younger. He had a rather boyish face, for someone who was twenty years old, and Hermione felt confident that they could pass him off for a school age boy.

"Breakfast?" Harry asked, his accent thicker when he was too tired to concentrate on it.

"Yep." Hermione replied, leading the way downstairs.

They sat together at the breakfast table in the Leaky Cauldron, Harry shovelling bacon and sausages into his mouth like someone who hadn't seen a proper meal in months. Hermione picked at her eggs with a fork, having felt full after only a few mouthfuls. Apparently, her appetite was yet another thing about her that was small. A large clock on the wall by the bar told them that the time was nearly nine o'clock.

"What time does Ollivander's open?" Hermione queried of the innkeeper when he came to clear away their plates, Harry having demolished her remaining food with vigour.

"First year at Hogwarts?" The innkeeper queried, taking into account Hermione's small stature.

"Seventh, actually." She corrected, adding at his shocked look, "I skipped a few years."

"Then why don't you have a wand?" the innkeeper asked suspiciously.

"Lost it." Harry grunted, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. "We both did. Refugees."

The innkeeper nodded thoughtfully. "Well it should be open about now."

"Thank You." Hermione said, standing up and tugging on Harry's sleeve. "Let's go."

Ron, or rather Romulus, had yet to make an appearance, but Hermione and Harry were both eager to procure wands, and in Hermione's case in particular, clothes. Hermione led the way, with Harry following behind with his shoulders hunched over as if trying to disguise that he was in general a lot taller than everyone else. Diagon Alley was a lot quieter than it had been the previous afternoon, and Hermione was thankful as she found it a lot easier to navigate when there weren't four hundred people in the way.

Ollivander's looked much the way it had when both of them had purchased their first wands back in their first year of Hogwarts. The same dark wood panelling, the same window display of a single wand on a dusty purple cushion, and the same peeling gold letters spelling out _Ollivanders: Makers of fine wands since 382bc._

Inside, they were met with a single counter surrounded by floor to ceiling shelves stacked with boxes and boxes of what they knew contained wands. The only unfamiliar thing in the shop was the man who greeted them, a man with clipped dark hair and a neatly trimmed moustache. The only thing that hinted that this might be the same Ollivander from their time were his eyes, great orbs of silver that seemed to catch everything.

"Can I help you?" He asked, looking over Harry and Hermione with keen interest. He gestured to Hermione. "First year at Hogwarts?"

"No, I'm going into seventh year." Hermione said through gritted teeth. She added, at his disbelieving look. "I'm fifteen, I skipped a couple of years."

"We both need new wands." Harry supplied helpfully. "We were forced to leave ours behind. We are refugees from the war."

Ollivander nodded, summoning a silver tape measure to him and, with a wave of his wand, setting it to take Harry's measurements. Whilst the tape was busy measuring around Harry's head Ollivander started questioning them.

"Who made your original wands?" Ollivander queried.

"Gregorovic." Hermione supplied the name of the only other wand maker she knew of.

"Ah yes, a fine wand maker. Although, he does have some rather different ideas about matching wand cores." Ollivander seemed lost in deep thought for a moment, before he snapped back to reality. "You will find my methods quite contrary to Gregorovic's, as every Ollivander wand chooses its wizard. I will hand you a series of wands but be aware that it may take some time to find a wand for you. I am not in the practise of just handing off anything to anyone."

The last part was said rather bitterly, but Harry and Hermione nodded their understanding anyway. Ollivander pulled a few boxes down from shelves and gently, almost lovingly, unwrapped the first wand. It was made of a dark shiny wood and boasted tiny intricate carvings of dragons on it. He gently stroked the wand, as if admiring his own handy work, and then held it up to show it to the two students.

"Ebony and dragon heartstring, 12 inches, quite flexible." Ollivander handed the wand to Harry, who immediately handed it back.

"That's not it." Harry quickly assured him. "It made me feel sick just holding it."

"Interesting." Ollivander muttered to himself, tidying the wand back into its wrappings and swiftly unwrapping another. "This one is Ash and dragon heartstring."

Harry took the proffered wand and gave it a wave. The end of the wand made a feeble wheezing sound and a single droplet of water dripped from the end to the ground.

"Hmmm, not to worry." Ollivander rewrapped this wand to and then observed Harry almost quizzically. "What did you say your previous wand was?"

"Holly and a phoenix feather." Harry supplied, eyeing the wand maker nervously.

"A very rare combination." Ollivander mused. "I am quite surprised Gregorovic thought of it. I myself have been playing with the idea. I have a particularly fine phoenix feather that I feel would suit some holly very nicely. Perhaps I will go ahead with it after all."

Ollivander looked as if he was considering something deeply, then nodded to himself and walked to a shelf at the back of the shop and dug around through some boxes for a while before he returned with a look of triumphant glee in his eyes.

"Try this one out. Also a rare combination, and quite suited for someone of your stature. Fifteen and a quarter inches, cedar wood with a unicorn hair, plucked from an expecting mother. She was not particularly fond of me after that, I can tell you. This wand is quite rigid, but used correctly will give outstanding results with protective spellcasting." Ollivander proudly handed over the long and rather plain looking orange wand. "Give it a try boy."

Harry shrugged, and waved the wand. Instantly, a jet of cold water burst forth, soaking Hermione who had unwittingly stood opposite him for the process. Hermione spluttered, and shot Harry a venomous look.

"Sorry Hermione." Harry said sheepishly, waving the wand and instantly drying her off.

"Very good." Ollivander clapped his hands in excitement. "A fine wand indeed. Glad to see it has finally chosen someone. I've had it here for years. As I said, it favours protective spell casting. It will be a fine wand for healing too, come to think of it."

Harry handed over seven gold galleons and declined Ollivander's offer to have his wand wrapped, preferring to keep it in hand instead. He did, after some consideration, hand over another galleon and purchased a wand care kit. He had learned in his fourth year that it was important to keep his wand clean for optimal performance, and the light golden orange of his new cedar wand would show stains and markings.

Next it was Hermione's turn, and she stood patiently while Ollivander also took her measurements. After observing his magical tape measure for a while, the wand maker went over to a low lying shelf and pulled out several boxes. He seemed to consider something, then pulled out yet more. The counter at the centre of the shop was soon boasting about twenty boxes. Ollivander picked up the first box, then discarded it almost immediately. Then he picked up the second and unwrapped a very familiar looking wand. Hermione had to catch herself before she let out a breath of longing. It was her own vine wood wand. Ollivander handed her the wand and stood there expectantly. Nervously, Hermione gave the wand a wave and felt…nothing.

"No, that's not it. Interesting. I really thought…" Ollivander shrugged and put the wand away, not catching Hermione's quiet whimper of disappointment. "Try this one. Spruce, very flexible and a nice unicorn hair."

Hermione was handed wand after wand, each one barely emitting a puff of magic. She was beginning to grow more frustrated, while the wand maker seemed more and more enthusiastic. It seemed he almost relished in having a difficult customer. The experience varied so much from her first visit, in the future, when he had handed her the vine wood wand straight away and declared it the wand for her. Hermione was growing weary, her arm sore from much pointless waving.

"Here," Ollivander handed her yet another wand. This one was decorated with small spirals along its length, and was about as long as her forearm. "This one is reed, inflexible, nine and three quarter inches, and contains a dragon heartstring. Very good wand for spell work, if I do say so myself. I myself have a wand similar to this."

Hermione took the wand and instantly felt warmth flood through her, and a huge grin broke out of her face. Wordlessly, she summoned a flock of colourful birds that flew a lap around the room before, with another wave of the wand, they disappeared.

Ollivander let out a breath with relief and threw in a wand care kit for free.

Both Harry and Hermione thanked Ollivander profusely as they left the shop, both feeling much lighter now that they had wands, and a means to protect themselves, once more. Since purchasing new wands had taken much longer than anticipated, they stopped together at a small café for a quick bite of lunch before continuing on to the second hand robe store. Neither of them could see the point in wasting more of their small pile of gold on new robes, and instead chose to peruse through racks of older, slightly scruffier looking attire.

"Look," Harry pulled a maroon dress robe from the rack he had been sorting through. "Should I get this one for Ron?"

Hermione gave a small snort of laughter, then gave Harry a worried look. "Where is he, anyway? He said he'd come back today and I haven't seen him."

Harry gave a guilty look, and glanced quickly at his feet.

"Harry James, if you know something you had better spit it out right now." Hermione gave him a glowering look, watching Harry wilt under her gaze.

"He sent an owl this morning. Before you got up. His mother has insisted upon taking him to Hogwarts today, to sort out his reenrolment. He won't be able to get here until late this afternoon." Harry shared this story without once making eye contact with the annoyed girl.

"You didn't think this might be pertinent information, that you should perhaps share?" Hermione queried, fingering her reed wand by her side in annoyance.

"I…er…I forgot." Harry glanced up, as if to gauge just how annoyed Hermione was, and deftly dodged her tickling charm she had sent his way. "Sorry! I got distracted by breakfast. This body is always hungry. Now I know how Ron used to feel."

Hermione rolled her eyes at her friend and returned to her rack of robes. Thanks to her small size, she was able to easily find sets of plain black Hogwarts robes to suit her; all hand me downs from students who had outgrown them. She also managed to find a few plain uniform skirts and a worn jumper that the shopkeeper told her would change to suit whatever school house she was placed in.

Harry and Hermione also purchased, aside from school uniforms, some comfortable everyday clothing. To Hermione's annoyance, everything made for girls was either too large on her, or involved a skirt or dress. Gone were the days where she could get around in a comfortable pair of slacks. Harry and Hermione both took it in turns in the change room to change out of their unusual muggle attire and into some plain wizarding robes; Hermione wore a dull grey knee length pinafore dress with a nondescript black cloak over it, while Harry favoured slightly too short black slacks, a loose white shirt and a grey travelling cloak that was so long it dusted the ground.

Next door to the second hand robe store, they managed to pick up a plain school trunk each, which they quickly filled with their purchases and shrunk down to the size of a matchbox. They were sorting through some potion supplies when they both felt a hand clap them on the back. Hermione turned in annoyance and eyed the boy behind them, taking a minute to realise it was their sandy haired friend.

"Hello, Romulus." Harry greeted jovially. "Thanks for the tip about the cannons. Was a close one, we thought the Wasps had it for sure."

Ron grinned at them, showing even white teeth, and waved away Harry's thanks as if he predicted the outcomes of quidditch matches all the time.

"It was the best match, I watched the replay in an old quidditch book." Ron enthused. "Course, it's the only match they won the whole season. Creamed by the Hollyhead Harpies the very next round."

"Enough quidditch talk." Hermione frowned. "Where have you been?"

"Hogwarts." Ron replied evenly. "My _'mother'_ had set up a meeting with the old headmaster, and it went on forever. I'm going back this year, into seventh year. She doesn't seem too happy about it, the old bird, but I managed to convince her. Apparently, Romulus Ganymede was never too good at school as it was, but I managed to convince her that his, my, best chance at a future was to finish my schooling."

Hermione nodded along with his story. "So we will all be in seventh year then?"

"Yeah, about that." Ron's cheery demeanour soured slightly. "That headmaster is going to need some convincing to take on refugees. He's a bit full of himself, that one. I reckon you'd have to give him some pretty convincing arguments. He was totally against allowing me to come back, said it gave the school a bad name to have such a low achieving student. It wasn't until I demonstrated a few of my better spells that he conceded. He's a right toss pot."

Hermione fought her urge to tell Ron off for insulting a professor, old habits dying hard, and looked thoughtful. "Perhaps we should pay him a visit today then, sort out our enrolment and get our book lists and such."

Ron nodded his agreement. "It would be a good idea. I'd come with you, but my _mother_ wants to take Rommy out for dinner, to celebrate. She's off buying my school books now. I have the easiest set of classes. Divination, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Herbology and Muggle Studies. Ganymede must really have been a dunderhead, to have dropped so many core subjects."

Hermione cringed at Ron's light workload.

"That's good though, then you'll have plenty of spare time to get on with our plan." Harry suggested optimistically.

"Yes, but that's hardly going to win him a decent career, post Hogwarts. How do you expect to live, Ronald, if you can't get a decent job when you graduate?" Hermione pointed out.

"It's fine." Ron patted her hand reassuringly. "My mum is loaded. Apparently she comes from a rather well to do pureblood family."

"You cannot live off of your poor mother, Romulus Ganymede!" Hermione hissed, looking highly affronted.

"It's not like anyone else will need it." Ron pointed out, "Romulus is her only child. It may as well go to someone."

"Hermione, we can still place bets and things." Harry quickly cut her off before she could start yelling at Ron in public. "It's better if we are all covering as many classes as we can anyway. That was we are more likely to be around You Know Who."

It was the first time they had mentioned Voldemort since they had come back, and Hermione gave an involuntary shudder. They had agreed before they left that they would refer to him by his commonly used moniker, lest they ever be overheard making their plans.

"I've put a lot of thought into this, and I also think it would be better if we try and get into different houses too. That way we can have eyes on all of Hogwarts. If we are going to do this, go on with the plan, we need to cover as many bases as possible." Harry reasoned, his voice low so as to avoid being overheard. "So I'm going to ask the hat to place me in Slytherin. Then I can stay close to You Know Who."

"There won't be a problem in covering different houses, then." Ron grumbled. "Romulus Ganymede is a Hufflepuff."

 **Author's Note: There you have it, another long chapter. I hope you like their wand choices. As usual, I put quite a bit of research into it, and as I said, Harry's wand is particularly good at protective spells. I thought this was fitting with his ability to wandlessly cast a shield, and I have always thought of him as a protective force. The first wands Ollivander handed him were all made from woods that favour dark magic. Hermione's wand was reed – the wisest of the woods – and a dragon heartstring that favours strong spell casting. Ron already has his wand, which is 8 inches, Walnut and a Unicorn Hair if anyone is at all interested. Wandlore has always fascinated me, and I feel if I went to Hogwarts, I would follow that as my career path. Anyway, enough useless ramblings, I hope you enjoyed this chapter.**


	7. VII

**Author's note: A HUGE thank you to everyone who has taken the time to review. I really appreciate hearing your thoughts on these things. I have been putting off this chapter, in fact I literally cut this scene out of the last chapter, because I am anxious to move the story along and I find meetings with headmasters rather tiresome. I am dedicating this very tedious (sorry) chapter to Nick, who helped me hash out my crazy plans and put up with my disjointed thoughts and theories. Thanks for your help, it was appreciated. Anyway, Enjoy.**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

" _I've put a lot of thought into this, and I also think it would be better if we try and get into different houses too. That way we can have eyes on all of Hogwarts. If we are going to do this, go on with the plan, we need to cover as many bases as possible." Harry reasoned, his voice low so as to avoid being overheard. "So I'm going to ask the hat to place me in Slytherin. Then I can stay close to You Know Who."_

" _There won't be a problem in covering different houses, then." Ron grumbled. "Romulus Ganymede is a Hufflepuff."_

… …. …. ….. ….. ….. ….

Harry and Hermione sat in the grand circular Headmaster's office, awaiting the arrival of the man himself. During Dumbledore's tenure as Headmaster of Hogwarts, back in their own time, the room had been filled with many interesting trinkets and curios. The current headmaster, that of the 1940's, seemed to hold little interest in such things. Gone were the silver instruments perched upon tables. No more was there a large gilded perch for Fawkes the phoenix. Absent was the sword of Godric Gryffindor, polished to catch the light just so.

The room was still the same bright room they remembered with many portraits adorning the walls; the occupants of which were feigning sleep with gentle false snores. However, it lacked many of the things that made it familiar. The vast windows were thrown open creating a gentle breeze that relieved some of the summer heat and what little wall space remained hosted shelves littered with books. In the centre of the room was a handsomely carved claw footed desk, a tall wing backed chair sitting empty and waiting.

"Do you think he's keeping us waiting to add to the suspense?" Harry whispered his question, so as to avoid the nosy portraits overhearing.

"Probably." Hermione's eyes were scanning over the book titles on the shelf nearest her with interest. "Do you think he'd notice if I borrowed one or two of these?"

"I most certainly would." Came a voice from the doorway behind them.

Hermione shot up from her seat like a flash, looking horrified that the Headmaster had appeared to have overheard.

"I'm sorry, professor. I was merely joking." She rushed to assure him.

Armando Dippet was a frail looking old wizard, with very little hair remaining on his shining head, and a wispy beard disguising a rather weak chin. Though in appearance he was little to look at, he held himself in the proud manner of someone who thought themselves rather important; head held high and shoulders thrown back with self-assurance.

"I am Professor Dippet, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." He introduced himself unnecessarily, taking his seat in the wing back across the desk from Harry and Hermione. "And who, might I ask, are you?"

Hermione swallowed the nervous mass in her throat and began.

"My name is Hermione, and this is Harry. We come to you seeking aid."

"We are refugees from the war in Europe." Harry jumped in with their rehearsed backstory. "We have had to flee our homes."

Dippet listened intently, his fingers gently intertwined and resting atop the desk before them. They wove him a tail of misfortune; families murdered, their tutor having been taken captive by dark enemy forces. Dippet nodded along, as if he had been aware of their situation all along, occasionally unclasping his hands to straighten and then restraighten the papers atop his desk.

"Circumstances as they are, we really need a place to stay and finish our education." Hermione concluded, trying to look suitably desperate and pleading. "We really have nowhere else to go."

"My dear girl," Dippet rose from his chair with an air of importance and strode around the desk to stand looking out a window. Without turning to them he imparted, "I am afraid we have not the room to accommodate a first year student such as yourself. Had you applied along with the others it may have been taken into consideration…"

"I am _not_ a first year." Hermione cut him off impatiently. "I am going into my seventh year!"

"At your age?" Dippet turned and shot her an aghast look.

"Hermione is fifteen." Harry supplied. "She skipped ahead a bit."

"Fifteen, you say." Dippet looked thoughtful once more. "Is it common to skip classes where you are from?"

"Hermione was a special case." Harry grinned at his friend. "Our tutor wanted to nurture her natural talents. Tell the headmaster how many OWLs you got, Hermione."

"Ten." Hermione shrugged, adding smugly, "Nine 'outstanding's, one 'exceeds expectations'."

Dippet's lips twitched, as if he were about to smile, before turning back to the window once more deep in thought. He had his gaze fixed on some point off on the horizon, and was taking deep steady breaths that were permeated with a soft wheezing sound.

"How many OWLs did you receive?" He asked Harry, at length.

"Nowhere near as many as Hermione." Harry looked a bit ashamed. "I only passed seven subjects. One O, five E's and an A in Astronomy."

"What was your outstanding for?" Dippet queried, turning around and studying Harry intently.

"Defence Against the Dark Arts." Harry explained. "I can conjure a corporeal patronus so I was given bonus points."

"Really?" Dippet tipped his head slightly sideways, evaluating Harry. "Show me."

Harry shrugged and, pulling his cedar wand from within his robe, shouted the incantation. A brilliant silver stag burst forth, pawing at the ground with its gleaming hooves. Dippet clapped his hands with excitement and seemed a little disappointed when Harry lowered his wand and the patronus faded. Hermione mentally catalogued the fact that Harry's patronus was still the same, regardless of the fact that their bodies and wands had changed. She would store that information away for later; something to ponder in a spare moment.

Dippet began to pace back and forth in front of the window, looking very thoughtful. "I don't suppose you have OWL transcripts with you?"

Hermione sighed. She had suspected that this would come up, and knew that there was no way to forge the required documents without being found out. To her surprise it was Harry who smoothly supplied an answer.

"Unfortunately they had to be left behind, but we are willing to sit whatever test you feel is necessary to prove our worth."

Hermione smiled at Harry, giving him a small 'thumbs up' from behind Dippet's back to show her support of what her friend had improvised on their behalf.

"I feel that without documented proof to support your claims…" Dippet began.

"Professor, we really have no way of providing proof. Our tutor is gone, possibly dead…" Hermione cut him off, blinking heavily a few times so that her eyes began to water. "We can't go back."

"I am sorry, young lady." Dippet, to his credit, did look rather sorry that he was rejecting two above average students. "I have the reputation of the school to consider."

"Well consider this." Harry levelled a menacing glare upon the old man, "We will be forced to tell a Daily Prophet reporter just how _helpful_ the Headmaster of Hogwarts was in our time of need."

Hermione swallowed her shock at Harry's venomous tone, but catching on to his train of thought added, "Yes, it would be shame for Hogwarts to have such bad press."

Dippet looked completely taken aback. Hermione nervously glanced at Harry, and saw that his hands were clenching the arms of his chair tightly. They both waited anxiously to see how Dippet would respond to this poorly veiled threat.

"You…" Dippet swallowed slightly. "You have contacts at the Prophet?"

"My mother was very good friends with one of the editors." Hermione lied smoothly, letting out a breath when Dippet gave a stiff nod.

"Yes… I could see how it would reflect on the school…"

Hermione decided to really hit the nail on the head.

"I am sure I could pay mother's dear friend a visit. In fact, I may after this meeting concludes." Hermione smiled politely at the headmaster.

Dippet visibly wilted at those words, and avoided their eye contact while he tried to think of a way out of the corner they had backed him into. They could almost tell exactly when he had come to the realisation that he had no other alternative.

"Welcome to Hogwarts." Dippet extended them each a hand to shake.

Harry and Hermione exchanged identical grins, having successfully bullied their way into the school. Hermione was a little upset that they had been forced to use such means, but the end result justified it. They would be going to school with Ron, and with You Know Who. The first part of their plan was coming together.

"You will, of course, need to submit to some basic testing from my professors to gauge where you are with your education. You can never be too sure with private tutors. If the professors deem you at an acceptable standard to take their advanced classes, then you may." Dippet was quick to take control of the situation once more, sitting back down in his chair, all business now that his school's reputation was no longer under threat.

"Of course." Hermione smiled at him. "We are happy to."

Harry and Hermione spent the remainder of the afternoon being given a tour of the school grounds by the caretaker, a rather gaunt looking man with waist length black hair and haunted eyes who insisted on detailing every single form of corporal punishment he had even doled out during his term, the whole time absentmindedly stroking his sleek black pet rat that he cradled to his chest. The caretaker had been introduced as Tomislav Tomiti, and it struck Hermione that, in her many years at Hogwarts, she had yet to come across a pleasant caretaker. Clearly the job attracted a certain personality set; one that Tomiti demonstrated in spades.

Dippet had set them a series of appointments for the next day so that they could be skill tested for their classes, and had offered them a room in the castle's guest wing; a place that even Harry, the former owner of the marauder's map, had not known existed. Joining Hermione's shrunken school trunk in her dress pocket was a printed timetable of when and where they would sit their examinations the next day. Harry had decided to let his more reliable friend take care of the important document, lest he lose it.

"Read it out to me, Hermione." He suggested as they were being given an in depth demonstration of exactly how the caretaker liked to order the trophies in the display case before them. "I may as well learn something useful today."

" _8 o'clock – breakfast in Great Hall, located on the ground floor_

 _9 o'clock- Defence Against the Dark Arts – 3_ _rd_ _floor, classroom 3c, Professor G. Merrythought (Harry/Hermione)_

 _10 o'clock– Transfiguration – Ground floor, classroom 1b, Professor A. Dumbledore (Harry/Hermione)_

 _11 o'clock – Potions – Dungeons, Potions Laboratory, Professor H. Slughorn (Harry/Hermione)_

 _12 o'clock – Lunch in Great Hall, located ground floor_

 _1 o'clock -Charms – 3_ _rd_ _floor charms corridor, classroom 2e, Professor S. Fusun (Harry/Hermione)_

 _2 o'clock -Herbology, greenhouse 6, Professor H. Beery (Harry/Hermione)_

 _3 o'clock – Care of Magical Creatures- ground floor, classroom 1f, Professor S. Kettleburn (Harry)_

 _3 o'clock -Arithmancy – 3_ _rd_ _floor, classroom 7a, Professor A. Zeki (Hermione)_

 _4 o'clock -Ancient Runes – 6_ _th_ _floor, classroom 6a, Professor S. Simge (Hermione)_

 _5 o'clock – Astronomy – Astronomy tower, Professor E. Danica (Hermione)_

 _6 o'clock – Dinner in great hall, located ground floor"_

Harry found it highly amusing that he would finish his tests by four, whilst Hermione wouldn't be done until dinner time, and was quick to stir her about the number of subjects she had decided to take.

"You really are a bookworm," he grinned. "Bet you can't wait to take all these exams tomorrow."

"Oh yes, Harry, I simply love having no time to study." Hermione shot him a dirty look. "Maybe I will have time to visit the library tonight. I wish you still had your invisibility cloak."

After a quick dinner in the kitchens, where Hermione tried to brush off the many house elves who ran forward to fawn over their guests and Harry ate his own body weight in sandwiches, the two friends followed the cantankerous caretaker up several flights of stairs and found themselves on the fifth floor landing, near the hospital wing. The corridor boasted several portraits of animals grazing in fields and dogs playing tug of war with old bones.

"The guest quarters are found behind the portrait of the sheep. Password is ' _forty winks'._ " Tomiti waved them in the general direction, before leaning in to Hermione's ear and muttering. "Rest well, child. You'll need it."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the menacing manner of the older man, and followed Harry to the portrait in question. It was a picture of a meadow, dotted with wild flowers, in the centre of which a rather plump looking woolly sheep contentedly munched away at the greenery. With a deep breath, she enunciated clearly.

"Forty winks."

 **Author's note: Sorry to end that one rather abruptly, but to be honest I didn't want to drag out the interactions in this one too far. Nobody needs another tour of Hogwarts, we have all roamed those halls in our minds several thousand times, I expect. Well, I have at least. Okay, people, serious question time: Do I go through their entrance examinations in detail, lightly brush over them picking out highlights, or do I skip them entirely and get on with the story? I'm not sure if I want to inflict eight exams on you, but if you are particularly interested to see Hermione wow some teachers, then I can write it out for you. Just let me know your preference and majority rules. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, or at least tolerated it for the sake of the story I'm trying to impart. If you are at all interested in etymology, then look up the non-canon names in this chapter. Each one has meaning. All the best.**


	8. VIII

**Author's Note: Well, this one took me a while to write because I literally spent days pondering how they would go in these little mini exams, and also what the tests would entail. I also wanted to put a fair bit of thought into what the professors would be like. Anyhow, I hope I have done it justice. Enjoy. (Oh, I haven't had a chance to thoroughly vet this for spelling and grammatical errors, and none jumped out at me when I reread through it, but if there are any blaringly obvious ones I apologize. -Myno**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

" _The guest quarters are found behind the portrait of the sheep. Password is 'forty winks'." Tomiti waved them in the general direction, before leaning in to Hermione's ear and muttering. "Rest well, child. You'll need it."_

 _Hermione rolled her eyes at the menacing manner of the older man, and followed Harry to the portrait in question. It was a picture of a meadow, dotted with wild flowers, in the centre of which a rather plump looking woolly sheep contentedly munched away at the greenery. With a deep breath, she enunciated clearly._

" _Forty winks."_

… … … **. …. ….. ….**

Hermione awoke in the cream colored guest room the following morning with her stomach in figurative knots, dreading how ill prepared she felt for these exams. Even though, through some late night reading, she had found the seventh year curriculum in this time closely followed the sixth year education she had received back in her own world she still felt like she had been given little time to prepare.

A light knocking sound on her door and Harry poking his unshaven face blearily around the door did little to calm the storm of nerves raging in her abdomen.

"We should get ready and head down to breakfast." Harry scratched at the stubble on his chin absentmindedly.

"You should shave, it will be hard to convince people you're only seventeen when you have a full beard." Hermione pointed her wand at herself and muttered a freshening and cleaning charm. She did not think she could handle showering the muggle way this morning.

"I shave every morning now, and by about two o'clock it's all back. Bloody European genetics." Harry grumbled, leaving Hermione alone.

Hermione transfigured the rather plain desk in the corner of the room into a dressing table, and stared at her reflection intently in the mirror. Although she had only had this body for a matter of days, she was almost sure that she was a little taller. Or maybe, she mused, that was because the black hair on her head was strongly resembling a herd of angry nifflers. The curls now resembled a bush that stuck straight up from her head, and she couldn't even manage to push her fingers through the tangled mess to attempt brushing them out.

Harry, in typical boy fashion, had not warned her of the evil black cloud awaiting her, having taken no notice of her hair. Hermione, for once, was rather thankful to have shared a room for six years with Lavender Brown, because she had overheard many a beauty charm in her days in Gryffindor. She had never felt the need for such vanity, but even Hermione could see that something had to be done about her hair, lest it become a danger to others.

Hermione waved her wand and watched, slightly taken aback, as her hair commenced untangling itself. Soon it was the shock of wild black curls once more, losing its steel wool texture and appearance. One more spell, one that Lavender had used almost daily, wove her black curls into a rather complicated looking fish tail braid that reached just past her shoulder blades.

Deciding that this was pretty much as good as it would get, and frowning at her rather large teeth and wondering if it was worth cursing herself so that the hospital wind matron would be forced to shrink them once again, Hermione made her way out into the guest quarters hall to wait for Harry.

The great hall was relatively quiet when Harry and Hermione finally made their way down for breakfast. Evidently most of the professors had already breakfasted by the time the two students took their seats at the Gryffindor table, old habits dying hard, and two golden plates of bacon and eggs materialized before them. Hermione was slightly disappointed, as she had been hoping to scope out the people who would determine her seventh year timetable and ultimately her acceptance into the familiar halls of Hogwarts.

Harry made quick work of his own mountainous pile of greasy food, and positively yipped with happiness when Hermione pushed her own plate before him so that he could polish that off too. Hermione settled for a simple pumpkin juice and slice of plain toast, her nervous stomach not feeling up to much more. Long before she felt ready, Harry was pulling her up and pushing her out the doors in the direction of the grand staircase.

Professor Merrythought's office was a handsome room on the sixth floor. Harry and Hermione had received a letter late last night requesting their DADA exam be moved from the classroom on the third floor, and had hastily made their way up to the office this morning, having miscalculated how long it would take to get to the office without knowing any shortcuts. The room boasted high ceilings, tall windows with filmy white curtains and a stunning view over the lake, which was glittering with the morning sun. Merrythought, perhaps in keeping with her name, preferred to keep a bright and almost airy feel to her room; her furniture was for the most part pale golden beech wood and soft blue velvet cushions adorned overstuffed armchairs of buttercup yellow. Above the door a loudly ticking clock sculpted from driftwood displayed the current time.

On the walls were silver framed black and white photographs of unseen witches or wizards casting their patronus charms, brilliant silver-white animals of varying species burst forth from the dark backgrounds, showing off for the camera, before they faded and the pictures reset. A large rectangular desk was centered in the room, with two armchairs positioned to make the most of the amazing views on one side, whilst a single creamy leather desk chair opposed them, facing the door. It was in this chair that the Professor herself sat, surveying the two students before her calmly.

Galatea Merrythought was an impressive woman, rivalling even Harry's new body in height, with a cascade of gunmetal grey hair curtaining her face. Though her visage bore the creases and marks of a long life, she gave of an air of being someone who had not lost any of her power or sense over the years. She also had the rather singular habit of drumming her long, black painted fingernails on the beech wood desk top, the sound cutting through the silence of the room.

After what seemed like a lifetime of watching Harry and Hermione, the Professor finally spoke. Her voice was so soft that Harry and Hermione both had to lean in to catch what she was saying. "Professor Dippet tells me that you have both passed your Defense Against the Dark Arts OWLs." She tilted her head at them curiously. "With flying colors."

"We both passed, Professor." Hermione smiled at the woman, being of the predisposition to like and admire academics as soon as she met them. "Harry received an Outstanding grade. Mine was rather less spectacular. An E"

"Did you now?" Merrythought scrutinized Harry for a moment. "Color me impressed."

"Hermione's really good too." Harry rushed to assure the Professor. "She's two years younger than me and beats me at everything."

Merrythought swallowed a rather knowing smile, inclining her head slightly at Harry to acknowledge his outburst.

"Perhaps you could answer some basic questions, so that I can gauge your knowledge of my subject, before I go into the more practical side." Merrythought suggested.

Hermione sat up in her seat a little straighter, theory being her particular strong suit.

"What are the most common ways to identify a werewolf?" The Professor looked between the two students expectantly.

"The snout of a werewolf is shorter than that of a standard grey wolf. The werewolf also has a tufted tail, and retains the same eye color as the werewolf's human form." Hermione answered the question quickly.

"People afflicted with lycanthropy age quicker." Harry surprised Hermione by jumping in. "They also look really sick when it is close to a full moon."

Hermione gave Harry's arm a reassuring pat, knowing from his suddenly glassy eyes and unwillingness to make eye contact with anything other than the floor that he was thinking of their old friend, Remus Lupin, who had unfortunately lost his life in the final battle of the wizarding war. Lupin's premature death was just another reason why Harry and Hermione were so determined to prevent the future from following the same course as it had in their timeline.

"Very good." Merrythought smiled warmly at them, it was the sort of smile that made other people smile back, and Hermione found herself doing just that. Even Harry perked up a little. "Now tell me, what is the most effective way to fight off an army of Inferi?"

"Lumos Maxima. Inferi, being creatures of darkness, cannot live in bright light. They shy away from it, and in some cases it can hurt them." Hermione answered matter-of-factly.

"The firestorm charm." Harry once again looking at the floor as more emotional memories took hold. "It creates a rope of fire from the tip of your wand and can be used to drive the inferi back."

"My word." The Professor looked taken aback, her voice rising in volume slightly. "That's quite a dangerous and advanced spell, Mister James."

"I haven't tried it." Harry assured the teacher. "But I've seen it."

"I am told you can produce a corporeal patronus." Merrythought smiled at the tall boy before her. "Care to demonstrate?"

Harry nodded and, standing rigidly from his soft armchair, he shouted the incantation without bothering to use his wand. The familiar silver stag materialized before them all, tossing its antlered head and snorting silver wisps of steam at them. Merrythought smiled openly, reaching over to clap Harry on the back.

"I don't think I have ever seen a wandless Patronus charm." She complimented. "I pity the dementor that comes after you."

Harry blushed from the compliment and waved at Hermione. "She can produce a patronus as well."

"Really?" The Professor looked interested. "Wandlessly?"

"No." Hermione looked disappointed. "But it's corporeal as well."

"Show me."

The professor smiled encouragingly as Hermione whipped out her wand and performed the charm, her bright little otter bursting forth from her want tip and making a show of bounding around the room, tripping itself over with its tail a few times and eliciting good humored laughs from the three of them.

Merrythought spent the remainder of the forty-five minute examination questioning them on defensive techniques for certain dark spells and every time they each supplied an answer her left eyebrow quirked ever higher until it looked as if it would disappear into the professor's hairline entirely; she seemed rather amazed at their collective breadth of knowledge.

"Very impressive." Merrythought clapped her hands, then glanced at the clock. "My word, time has gotten away from us. I would have liked to see the two of you perform a quick duel, but since you need to be downstairs in the transfiguration classroom in ten minutes I shall simply ask that you attend at least one dueling club meeting this year. You are both more than welcome to partake in my advanced classes. In fact, I insist upon it. I shall owl the headmaster directly."

Harry and Hermione both thanked the professor profusely, before bursting from her office and racing down the nearest staircase headed for the first floor transfiguration department. Harry skidded to a halt in front of classroom 1b just as the main clock tower dinged ten o'clock, Hermione barreling into him a moment later, completely out of breath.

"Keep up." Harry laughed at his small friend, who was clutching her stomach and wheezing for breath.

"Shut…up…Harry…" Each word was permeated by a deep rasping breath.

"Hello." The two students looked up, startled to see a very familiar man standing before them.

"Or course, how could I be so stupid?" Hermione whacked her head in frustration.

It had completely left her mind that she would be seeing Dumbledore today. She had seen the name on the timetable, of course, but she had grown so accustomed to the name over the years that it hadn't really jumped out at her. But now, seeing the man himself in all his tall, auburn bearded glory, standing before them and holding open the door to his classroom, it struck Hermione that this was the same Professor Dumbledore who had been murdered in their sixth year. This was the Dumbledore who had bequeathed Hermione, Harry and Ron items in his will that had aided them in their yearlong hunt for the horcruxes. This was the Dumbledore who had guided the three of them throughout their formative school years.

"It's so good to see you." Harry clearly was taken aback, just as Hermione had been.

"I am fond of blurting out unexpected things, and I always aim for people to enjoy my presence…" Dumbledore smiled at the two pupils who followed him into the classroom. "But I am not sure we have yet had the pleasure of introduction."

"Oh." Hermione glanced over at Harry apprehensively, and saw that he was once again avoiding all eye contact. "I am sorry, Professor. We have heard stories of you, but didn't realize you would be teaching here this year."

"Heard stories?" Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in that achingly familiar way, making Hermione long to leap at him and embrace him with a tight hug. "All scandalously over exaggerated in my favor I hope."

"You're teaching Transfiguration?" Hermione supplied a subject change smoothly.

"Yes, a marvelous subject." Dumbledore ushered them into seats near the front of the classroom, and quickly conjured up a floral armchair for himself, which he sank into with a look of contentment. "I suppose you are here to wow me with your copious skills."

"I wouldn't say copious skills." Hermione blushed. "But the Headmaster wants you to assess if we are competent enough to take advanced classes."

Dumbledore turned to Harry, not unaware that the boy had been avoiding all conversation since their arrival. "Would you like to demonstrate some of your abilities, Mister James?"

Harry started at having been addressed directly, and quickly pulled out his cedar wand and pointed at the desk before him. With a wave of his wand, Harry conjured a wooden block. Bolstered by Hermione's encouraging smile and Dumbledore's impressed look, Harry gave a wave and the wooden block shrank slightly, remolding itself into a small, live frog which hopped across the desk in a big for freedom. Harry waved his wand again and the frog changed into a pitcher filled with deep blood red wine. One more wave and the wine vanished, leaving behind the same wooden block.

Dumbledore clapped animatedly at Harry's showing of skill, his talent for transfiguration having really come into its own when Harry and Hermione had assisted in the rebuilding of Hogwarts after the final battle. Hermione looked mildly annoyed, knowing that she somehow had to top that display, seeing as how she had received a higher mark than Harry in their exams. It would be illogical for Harry to have suddenly advanced beyond her in the space of two years when they shared the same tutor.

Hermione made a show of rolling up her sleeves, and giving Harry a rather apologetic look, she aimed her wand at her friend. Dumbledore gave a small laugh as Harry the rooster pecked angrily at Hermione's feet, while she danced away from him, wordlessly conjuring wooden fences for the transfigured boy to dodge around. Finally, she waved her wand and Harry was returned to normal, the small obstacle course vanishing into thin air. Harry shot her a filthy look, mouthing 'You'll get yours' to his proud friend.

"That was an impressive show." Dumbledore smiled at the two students. "I give bonus points for the use of non-verbal spell work. However," Hermione blanched, knowing from the familiar tone in the Professor's voice that something bad was coming, "We restrict all human transfiguration outside of NEWT level classes."

"We intend to take NEWT level classes, if you'll have us." Hermione smiled nervously at the professor.

"Well naturally I'd be an old fool if I turned you away." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled merrily at them. "And I am not feeling particularly old, nor foolish."

Harry and Hermione both made an incredible showing at each mini exam, wowing the professors one by one. Professor Slughorn, set them to brew the draught of living death and seeing how Harry and Hermione adapted the recipe – thanks to Harry remembering the small additions the Half Blood Prince had made to the instructions – watched on in amazement as each student produced a perfect result. He practically fell over himself, begging them to make an appearance at the first Slug Club gathering of the year.

Professor Silvanus Fusun, a weedy man with a grey beard long enough that he had tucked it into his belt and spectacles that enlarged his eyes to an almost comical extent, was awed by Hermione's penchant for wandless summoning and banishing, and had actual tears in his eyes when both Harry and Hermione could non verbally perform water summoning and color changing charms on some plain silver cups, turning them bright blue with orange polkadots.

Their performance in Herbology was more toward demonstrating academic knowledge, and Hermione excelled, naturally, although Harry surprised himself by being able to recommend fertilizer for the potted fanged geranium that the teacher, Herbert Beery, had presented to them.

Over a delicious dinner of roast beef with all of the trimmings, Hermione and Harry compared their performance for the exams they had not shared. Harry felt he had done well in Care of Magical Creatures, since having had Hagrid as a Professor meant he did not scare easily when presented with dangerous creatures, and he had managed to accurately prescribe a Thestral's preferred diet; raw meat.

Hermione was confident of her showing in Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Astronomy, telling Harry how the Ancient Runes professor, a portly woman by the name of Simge, had been blown away with how quickly Hermione had translated a page of Latin runes.

"Well you have had a fair bit of practice." Harry grinned at his friend.

They were sitting at the staff table, Dumbledore having conjured up two extra seats for them after Fusun extended the table to fit the two of them. They had already discussed with the headmaster that after dinner they would return to the Leaky Cauldron, and Diagon Alley, to purchase the remainder of their school things and, more importantly, catch up with the third party in their trio.

Dippet had agreed, saying that catching the Hogwarts Express back to school would be a grand way to get to know their future 'school chums'. He had even offered to let them use his fireplace to floo there, since Hermione was underage and therefore should not perform magic outside of school. Hermione had swallowed guiltily, having already performed magic several times without thought to the wizarding law. It appeared that she did not have the trace on her, however, since no angry letters from the ministry had appeared in Diagon Alley or in Hogsmeade where she had performed spells.

As dinner disappeared from the golden plates and a large chocolate pudding was passed along the table, each professor taking a considerable helping, Dippet stood from his chair and cleared his throat.

"I understand I must congratulate our two new students." Dippet's gaze landed on Harry and Hermione at the end of the table. "I am told that you are accepted into all of your requested advanced classes."

"Thank you, Professor." Was Harry's embarrassed reply.

"The hour is late." Dippet gestured to the door of the great hall. "Perhaps we should get you back to your lodgings. You will return in a little over a month for the school year."

"Let them finish their pudding, Armando." Dumbledore smiled down their table in their direction. "Mister James appears to be famished."

Harry smiled around his mouthful of pudding as Hermione reloaded his plate with more of her leftovers. The conversation between the professors was jovial, and they all made an effort to include the two students. They queried Harry and Hermione about their tutor's teachings throughout the years, and they both answered rather honestly, considering they were making up an entire past that didn't exist, retelling their six previous years of Hogwarts schooling but changing professor's names to reflect that of their invented tutor. The professors seemed impressed, as the 1940's curriculum moved at a slower pace than that of the future modern day Hogwarts, and they praise Harry and Hermione for being so very advanced in their learnings.

"It really is getting quite late." Dippet once again took charge of proceedings, gesturing to the door of the great hall in impatience. "As fascinating as our two newest additions to the school are, they had best get back to their accommodations and rest up for the school year. It commences in a month's time."

Harry and Hermione both nodded, since the day's exertions had taken their toll, and happily followed the old headmaster back to his office and over to the large fireplace crackling merrily in the corner without giving off any heat, the summer weather providing the warmth in the room.

"I hope you understand; we cannot allow students to remain in the castle over the holidays unsupervised." Dippet surprised Hermione and Harry by addressing them one last time, with almost a note of warning in his voice. "I couldn't even allow this year's head boy to remain over the holidays. Hogwarts castle is a vast building with many hidden dangers, and we find it is best that students not be left unattended. Good evening."

Harry and Hermione were both relieved when they tumbled out of the fireplace back into the warm atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron Pub, dusting soot and ashes from their plain clothing. Harry paid the innkeeper for another two rooms for the night, brushing off his enquiries about their day at Hogwarts, and the two tired teens trudged upstairs and gratefully said goodnight.

Harry promised to owl Ron before he went to sleep, knowing that they needed to fill Ron in on the past two days' events and start making some serious plans regarding the school year ahead. Hermione was grateful that Harry took this upon himself, as she was exhausted from using so much advanced magic in one day. She was asleep as soon as she hit the soft mattress of her rented bed.

 **Author's Note: I tried not to let the testing drag on, but wanted to give you the idea that, thanks to their being older, they are both more advanced than the average bear. I hope you enjoyed. Next chapter they will make plans for the next month pre-Hogwarts, and Rommy Ron will make his reappearance. Goodnight.**


	9. IX

**Author's Note: I would like to take this opportunity to thank my reviewers once again. It really is a great feeling to have someone, who is not my mother and therefore legally bound to be nice, saying they like my story. So thanks a bunch.**

 **On another note, I found in this story I jump around a lot between calling Ron by his real name or by Romulus Ganymede – the reason being in my head they are one and the same: Ron/Rommy/Romulus… I hope it isn't too confusing for you, but I have found it hard to use one and not the other. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

 _Harry and Hermione were both relieved when they tumbled out of the fireplace back into the warm atmosphere of the Leaky Cauldron Pub, dusting soot and ashes from their plain clothing. Harry paid the innkeeper for another two rooms for the night, brushing off his enquiries about their day at Hogwarts, and the two tired teens trudged upstairs and gratefully said goodnight._

 _Harry promised to owl Ron before he went to sleep, knowing that they needed to fill Ron in on the past two days' events and start making some serious plans regarding the school year ahead. Hermione was grateful that Harry took this upon himself, as she was exhausted from using so much advanced magic in one day. She was asleep as soon as she hit the soft mattress of her rented bed._

… … _ **. …. …. ….. ….**_

Hermione sat at a secluded outdoor table in the popular Miller's Café, a small eatery located between Gringotts and Eyelop's Owl Emporium where the Diagon and Knockturn Alley's converged. A large tropical fern partially blocked her from prying eyes, and for extra cover she had a tall golden menu propped open before her, fully shielding her from view.

Her hair was spelled into another intricate style designed to contain the unruly mess of curls, and she wore a long flowing skirt of pale mauve and a cream colored blouse edged with lace. To any curious passerby, had they the ability to see through the fern and menu, she would simply appear like a young girl waiting for her parents.

In reality, she was waiting for Harry and Ron. The former had gone to meet Ron at the quidditch store and from there the two boys planned to go to Gringotts to bolster their small pile of gold with more winnings. Hermione had preferred not to be present for the betting, as it had been stressful the first time to say the least.

"Can I get you something, miss?" The freckled waiter, a boy of eighteen or nineteen, had approached the table and summoned a pitcher of water and a glass, which he filled for Hermione.

"Just a slice of the hummingbird cake, please." Hermione reluctantly handed the waiter her menu and pulled a book from her bag instead, enlarging it from its shrunken state and starting to read.

Before long the waiter returned with a large slice of delicious smelling cake, iced in white and with a miniature birds' nest made from coconut adorning it. In the nest sat a small, sweet looking bird crafted from the same white icing atop the cake, which was charmed to behave as a live bird. Hermione, who couldn't even bring herself to eat a chocolate frog, gently coaxed the icing bird from its nest and watched it nestle contentedly into the spray of cream on the side of the plate. Once she was sure the icing bird was out of harm's way, she tucked in.

As expected, the cake was delicious, and Hermione surprised herself with how much of the creamy confection she managed to put away; Evidently her body had a weakness for sweets. She took small forkfuls of cake as she read her book, turning the pages slowly and enjoying a moment of total relaxation away from the hustle and bustle of London.

She also used this alone time, and her hiding spot, to watch the people around her. She had read books and researched the 1940's before she had come back in time, and had managed to get some small insight into how the forties worked. But nothing came close to watching the people moving through the crowded shopping strip, seeing how they interacted and listening to brief snippets of conversation.

Young men acted with a chivalry that Hermione would have thought more common in the 1800's rather than the 20th century; they parted crowds, vanished dirt from the path of ladies and jovially held out arms to escort properly coifed and attired witches. The women, rather than rolling their eyes as Hermione had when a young wizard prostrated his-self across a puddle and insisted on Hermione stepping over him lest her feet get wet, appeared pleased at the attention and smiled graciously.

It was all so very backward from the time Hermione had left behind, and yet there was something oddly charming about the way the witches and wizards comported themselves. It spoke of a bygone era, a time when men were gentlemen and women were ladies. Even the teenagers, their parents following some feet behind them along the winding alley, spoke to their elders with respect in their voices and nodded politely to their peers.

Whilst Hermione naturally longed for her own time, she found that she wasn't hating what she was seeing of this one. Nobody in Diagon Alley looked like they bore the weight of the wizarding world on their shoulders, nobody shot furtive glances as if afraid they could be attacked at any moment and nobody blanched away from an unfamiliar face as if this person would spell their demise; The Wizarding World of the 1940's seemed to have a no worries attitude.

Yes, there was the war in Europe raging on, but this seemed so wholly unconnected from the day to day life of Wizarding London. And sure, Grindelwald had been strengthening his army of Inferi on the continent, and the Daily Prophet suggested that he would move on London soon, but to the everyday witch or wizard this was something for the Ministry to worry about, and didn't bare a second thought. It was a sort of carefree existence, and Hermione almost wished she had grown up in such a time.

"Hermione." The oddly familiar, even though it had been only a matter of days, tone of Harry's voice snapped Hermione from her musings, and placing a marker back in her book she turned and smiled up at her friends.

"Harry." Hermione offered him her plate with the small portion of cake remaining, which he took without question and popped in his mouth. "Where's Ron?"

Harry sat down opposite Hermione with a groan, and waved the waiter over and ordering a round of butterbeer for them both and another slice of cake. " _Romulus_ couldn't shake his mother, so I had to do the betting alone."

"How did it go?" Hermione frowned at the news of their friend.

"Well the Hollyhead Harpies creamed the Cannons, as expected. But the odds weren't very long so we only came out with another 150 galleons. Not great considering I bet fifty." Harry pulled out a small bag of gold and tossed it across the table to Hermione. "You should hang on to that, since I still have most of the winnings from last time."

Hermione nodded and quickly shoved the bag into her small cream purse, a purse that she had bought second hand and then extended with every undetectable extension charm she knew; It stored her school trunk, the school books she had purchased earlier that morning as well as other provisions and clothing she had thought to purchase.

"Is he going to be able to meet up with us any time soon?" Hermione asked Harry, accepting her butterbeer from the waiter and giving him a dismissive smile. "It's going to be hard to make plans if we can't get him alone."

"Well, about that…"

Harry was cut off by the arrival of yet another person at their table. Romulus Ganymede was standing before them, on his arm the blonde haired aging beauty that was his mother, her rather plush figure draped in a filmy cream chiffon robe that spoke of elegance and wealth. Whilst she shared Romulus's sandy hair and dreamy blue eyes, her features were put together in an ultimately more striking way. Hermione guessed that in her heyday she would have been a great beauty, though now she had a softness about her that spoke of her life revolving more around her son than around herself. She gave off a pleasant vibe, that of a caring parent, and in a small way it reminded Hermione of Molly Weasley, a thought which caused a dull ache in Hermione's chest if she thought on it too hard and immediately made her want to act guarded around the older woman.

"Hello." Ron smiled at them. "Allow me to introduce my mother, Irma Ganymede."

Mrs. Ganymede nodded politely to the two teens before her and turned to her son, her features betraying a look of bewilderment and confusion.

"Rommy." She said quietly, but not quietly enough as Harry and Hermione could both catch her every word. "I thought you said you wanted to meet your friends."

"These are my friends." Ron held out a seat for his mother who sat down rather daintily for someone whose robes seemed just a minute fraction too tight, and then took a seat himself opposite the older woman. "This is Harry James and Hermione Jean. They are coming to Hogwarts this year."

"But Rommy," Mrs. Ganymede had the manners to look apologetic, at least. "Aren't they the refugees from the other day, outside Gringotts?"

Hermione raised her eyebrows, wondering if it was common practice to talk about people as if they weren't there.

"Yes mother, they are the refugees. And they are my friends." Ron frowned at the woman opposite him, as if daring her to ask any more questions about it.

"Oh." Mrs. Ganymede turned her soft eyes on Harry and then Hermione in turn. "It is lovely to meet you both."

"Likewise." Harry held out his hand and gave the older woman's a gentle squeeze. "Romulus has told us so much about you."

"Has he?" Mrs. Ganymede looked surprised and oddly pleased.

"He said you are very caring." Hermione affirmed, also giving Romulus's Mother's hand a shake.

"He exaggerates I am sure." Mrs. Ganymede failed to hide the touched look in her eyes, or the wide smile that lit up her features. "So you are both going to be attending Hogwarts this year?"

"Yes, we are going into seventh year with your son." Hermione answered politely.

"At your age?" Hermione was, by now, used to people mistaking her age so managed not to look quite as annoyed as she felt.

"I am fifteen." Hermione supplied. "Sixteen in September."

"Really?" Mrs. Ganymede smiled good naturedly at Hermione. "Perhaps with a bit of good food in your stomach and a few full nights' rest you will bloom into a majestic flower."

"Sorry." Ron shrugged, nodding to his mother. "She likes plants."

Hermione thanked the older woman for what she guessed had been an attempt at a compliment and was grateful when Harry drew her attention away.

"Do you live in London, Mrs. Ganymede?" Harry queried, setting down his drained butterbeer glass and starting in on his slice of cake with the sort of enthusiasm that only the Ron from their own time could have possibly matched.

"Oh yes." Mrs. Ganymede watched Harry eat with fascination. "In Chelsea; Wellington Square. Do you know it?"

"Why would they, mother?" Ron quickly cut in before Harry could answer. "They lived in Europe."

"Oh yes." Mrs. Ganymede shot Harry and Hermione sympathetic looks. "You poor dears. Having to leave home, your families. It must be simply awful. No place to call home, nobody to greet you at the door…"

"Mother!" Ron shot his mother a look that clearly said 'they probably don't want to talk about it'.

"We cope." Hermione stated blandly.

"Oh, but I could not imagine sending Romulus away; no matter who was terrorizing the streets! A child's proper place is with their parents; where they can be looked after. It's hard enough having to send him to Hogwarts. I actually thought about getting a tutor so I could keep him home, but children taught by tutors never really amount to much…"

"We were taught by a tutor." Hermione's patience with the woman was wearing thin, and she could see why Ron complained about living with her.

"Oh!" Mrs. Ganymede looked scandalized. "I did not mean to offend. Maybe where you are from tutors are commonplace. But there really is nothing quite like a Hogwarts education."

"And our parents didn't send us away." Hermione ignored Mrs. Ganymede's apologies. "They died."

"Oh how awful! I am so very sorry." Irma Ganymede looked close to tears, and Hermione felt a knot of guilt in her stomach for being so snippy with the poor woman, the knot strengthening when Harry kicked Hermione under the table and shot her a pointed look. "I didn't know. I guess I should learn not to speak out of turn…"

"No." Hermione quickly reached out and patted the woman's hand awkwardly, glancing between Harry and Ron to gauge their reactions. "I shouldn't have spoken to you that way. You didn't know. I'm sorry."

Ever the peace maker, Harry cut into the conversation again.

"It is still very raw, as you can imagine." He let his eyes mist up, obviously drawing on a painful memory to add genuine feelings to his next statement. "We each lost people very dear to us."

"Oh my poor darlings." Mrs. Ganymede leapt up from the table and pulled both Harry and Hermione into her copious bosom, holding them in a tight embrace. "I am sorry to have brought up such painful memories."

"You know," Ron spoke up, ignoring Harry and Hermione's horrified expressions as his mother suffocated them in her loving arms. "Harry and Hermione shouldn't be alone at the moment. I read somewhere that it's bad for grieving people to be alone."

Mrs. Ganymede released the two teens and turned to her son.

"What do you mean, alone?" She turned back to the teens. "What does he mean?"

"Well, at the moment they're staying at the Leaky Cauldron." Ron explained. "But really, they need to be in a loving home environment, with people who can look after them."

Hermione shot Ron a confused look while Harry shook his head smiling slightly. Harry had always found it oddly amusing how well Ron could weave a tale, when he put his mind to it. Hermione had yet to catch on to her friend's particular talent, preferring to believe Ron's sentiments were always genuine.

"It would be a shame to leave them in such an impersonal place as Diagon Alley." Ron continued. "Wouldn't it make more sense if they came to our home? I mean, we have the room and they could come to the party next week and meet some people they'll be going to school with…"

"Yes, they could come to the party…" Mrs. Ganymede seemed unsure of where her son was going with his thoughts. "I am throwing Romulus a party to celebrate his being back with us. Even the top healers at St Mungo's did not think he would make such a good recovery. It's a miracle." She explained to the two perplexed looking teens.

"So they can come?" Ron asked his mother, trying to adopt a look of puppy-dog pleading in his expression.

"Of course they can come."

"Great." Ron smiled, his even white teeth gleaming in the sunshine. "So it's settled. Harry and Hermione will spend the month with us."

 **Author's note: Well, Harry and Hermione will be spending a whole lot of time with Rommy Ron and his mummy, it seems. Poor Mrs Ganymede, she extends an invite to a party and ends up with two strays!**


	10. X

**Author's Note: The building described in the chapter exists, in that there is a building where I say there is, but the interior is entirely of my own invention. Just thought I'd throw in a little disclaimer there for you. Anyhow, Enjoy.**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

" _So they can come?" Ron asked his mother, trying to adopt a look of puppy-dog pleading in his expression._

" _Of course they can come."_

" _Great." Ron smiled, his even white teeth gleaming in the sunshine. "So it's settled. Harry and Hermione will spend the month with us."_

… … … …. ….

Number 29 Wellington Square in Chelsea, London, was a handsome white townhouse built in the Georgian style, with wrought iron railings that featured the odd flower motif and intricately designed cornices decorating the façade. It was rather narrower than the other townhouses on the street, but almost seemed more expensive looking all the same. There were two visible entrances to the building; A shiny black painted door with a silver knocker was the main entrance, whilst some tiled steps led down to a basement level whose windows and doors were rendered opaque by the use of heavy black curtains.

Mrs. Ganymede had insisted that they apparate into the tiny courtyard at the bottom of the basement stairs; Romulus and herself each using side along apparition to transport their guests since the wards on the house would prevent strangers from apparating into the living room. She had then waved them up the stairs and onto the street so that the two teens could really take in the building in all its glory.

"Each of you touch the knocker and state your full name clearly." She instructed, gesturing them over to the door. "So that the house can register your presence."

Harry stepped forward first and frowned when his hand made contact with the knocker. He clearly stated his adopted moniker, and the door seemed to vibrate slightly as if processing this information. Next it was Hermione's turn. She soon found out why Harry had looked put out when he had touched the handle; the metal was icy cold, as if they were in the midst of a freezing winter rather than a particularly warm July. Once she had stated her name the handle warmed slightly and she felt the door vibrate its approval; it was a rather disconcerting feeling.

"Welcome to our home." Mrs. Ganymede pushed open the heavy black door and gestured grandly to the entrance foyer, which easily was three times as wide as the façade of the building.

The foyer was bright and airy, with tall windows letting in plenty of sunlight, and a hovering chandelier adding to the effect. The floors were tiled with white marble, and a circular staircase led up to the second level. To one side of the entrance hall was a set of white double doors propped open, carved white architraves framing the way through to a dining room that boasted a simple yet elegant table that looked to seat about twenty. The other side of the entrance hall was another set of doors, mirroring the first, that led through to a large square lounge room that made the most of cream coloured chintz furniture and a sculpted marble fireplace.

"The kitchen is through the dining room and down the stairs, and there is a small washroom situated behind it." Mrs. Ganymede pointed things out to them, clearly pleased to be showing off her home to new guests. "Many of the paintings you see on the walls are by famous muggle artists. My husband says this is why the pictures don't move. Romulus's father travels a lot for his work with the ministry, and likes to send such curios home to us. He says that these works of art are unique and will one day be worth the investment."

Hermione choked on her breath when she saw some of the artwork Romulus's Mother was talking about. She could easily recognise the unique styles of Vermeer and a Van Gogh, and even one noticeable Picasso. Harry shrugged at her and nodded to their hostess who was showing them some more of the antiquities that Mr Ganymede had sent home, including a shrunken head in a jar and a plain gold oil lantern that she told them had belonged to an Arabian Noble-Wizard who had liked to shrink himself and live inside the lamp from time to time.

"Romulus, why don't you take our guests upstairs and show them their quarters while I see to dinner. I am sure they'd like to get situated and have a chance to unpack their things." Mrs. Ganymede turned to her son and looked thoughtful. "For Harry I believe the Chartreuse Room will do. Then he will be close to you if he needs anything during the night. Hermione will stay in the Lavender Boudoir, near me."

Ron shrugged and headed up the stairs, waving at his two friends to follow. Once they were on the second floor landing he turned to them and grinned.

"This place in enormous. It has literally taken me four days to figure out where my own bedroom is. I've been alternating between spare rooms all week." He seemed oddly pleased. "Wait until you see the top floor. But first I'll show you the rooms she was talking about."

They followed their friend across the landing and into a long hallway. The first door he pushed open revealed a large room filled with toys. On one wall hung a broomstick rack with several toy brooms and a small box labelled 'Quidditch for Kids'. Another wall was laden with book shelves filled with brightly coloured children's books and in one corner was a pile of cushions and an armchair, a small table holding more books by its side. A miniature replica of the scarlet engine Hogwarts Express was puffing its way around the perimeter of the room and a plush palomino coloured rocking horse tossed its maned head impatiently and whinnied.

"This was my nursery." Ron looked giddy with excitement.

"Technically, this was Romulus Ganymede's nursery." Hermione pointed out, while Harry gave in to his inner child and examined the little steam engine that had drawn to a stop outside a model castle.

"Whatever." Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione. "It's mine now."

"Ron…" Hermione warned him.

"Hermione just let him enjoy it." Harry interjected before the two friends could get into an argument. "There's no harm in that."

Hermione swallowed back her retort and nodded her head. It had only been a few days ago, in another time, when Ron had not been able to so much as look at her, let alone speak to her, and she was in no hurry to push their newly reformed friendship.

"Which is your room?" Hermione gestured to more of the doors along the lengthy hall.

"Mine's the one on the right." Ron walked over and pushed open the door, showing them a brief flash of yellow and black decorations before he hastily pulled it closed again. "It's like a bleeding Hufflepuff shrine in there."

He then pushed open the door opposite, and Hermione blinked against the colour scheme. The walls were painted a bright yellowy green with a white dado rail separating about a foot of moss green that continued on to the ceiling. A black chandelier hovered above a black and green bed spread; silver, black and green patterned cushions piled high at the head of the bed. Two large windows were curtained with sheer creamy material, and on a night stand by the bed was a tall vase of electric green daisies. The room also hosted a small armchair, in the same black and green motif, a tall stand-alone wardrobe, and a black writing desk.

"I think this would have been my room if I had been in Slytherin." Ron looked slightly sick at the thought. "Mother calls it the chartreuse room, but I think that's just because she doesn't want to call it vomit-green."

"I'll admit, it's a little…startling…at first." Harry enter the room and sat on the bed. "But the bed is soft, and I think I could get used to the colour."

"Besides." Hermione shot him a cheeky look. "You'll have your eyes closed ninety-nine percent of the time you're in here."

"The bathroom is the door next to mine, and there are about three more guest bedrooms further along the hall and another bathroom, if you need it." Ron turned and indicated the landing where they had come from. "The hall on the other side leads to the west wing, where Hermione will be staying."

Harry and Hermione followed Ron back to the grand staircase, Harry having left his school trunk – returned to its normal size- in the chartreuse room waiting to be unpacked at a later time.

"That goes upstairs." Ron gestured toward a staircase and Harry snorted at the obviousness of the statement, slapping Ron on the shoulder good naturedly. "And this is the door to the west wing."

"It's all very _Beauty and the Beast_ , isn't it?" Hermione joked, causing Harry to once again try to stifle his snigger. "West Wing and all."

Ron just looked at Hermione as if she were speaking gibberish, which she supposed to him she was since Beauty and the Beast was a muggle story he was unlikely to have heard, and continued through the door.

The west wing hallways was decorated in the same creamy colour as the hall containing Ron and Harry's rooms, and Hermione could see how she could find herself getting lost in the immense hallways of the Ganymede home.

"You're in luck." Ron pointed to a set of double white doors which was labelled with glittering gold letters. "That's the master suite. Yours is opposite and one to the right. Your bathroom is directly opposite the master. The other doors are more guest rooms and another bathroom, like our side of the house, but the double doors at the end lead to father's study. Mother says we must leave it undisturbed."

"You do realise you sounded exactly like Draco Malfoy when you said that." Harry teased his friend, following Hermione over to her bedroom door as Ron had indicated.

The Lavender Boudoir, as Mrs. Ganymede had called it, was a large room with soft lavender walls and white and lavender furniture. There was a white four poster bed, with a white comforter decorated with little sewn on sprigs of lavender, and soft purple material draped down from the posts creating a translucent veil. There was a mauve looking ottoman adorned with soft white cushions at the end of the bed, and a tall white wardrobe faced a dressing table, also in white, with a lavender velvet stool placed beneath it. Everything in the room was trimmed in lace, including the curtains which were also decorated with tiny sewn-on sprigs of the offending plant.

It was altogether too girly for Hermione, and in no way a room that she would have chosen for herself, but she quickly set to work unpacking her trunk and hanging up the few items of clothing she owned in the wardrobe anyway. She did not want to offend her hostess, and was aware that this bedroom was probably decorated in the height of 1940's fashion.

"Your room is worse than mine." Harry pointed out.

"At least it's not yellow." Ron grumbled quietly.

"It's a bedroom. I plan to sleep in it." Hermione pointed out. "Not sit around and admire the wall art."

"Good point." Harry smiled at his female friend. "Should we go down for dinner now?"

"We can't go down until we have dressed for dinner." Ron looked sheepish. "Mother insists upon pressed shirts and slacks at her table."

"We are refugees, remember." Harry pointed out. "We don't have nice dinner clothing."

"Merlin, you are tall, but we can probably alter something of mine for you." Ron suggested, drawing out his short walnut wand and eyeing it with distaste. "You should probably do the transfiguration work yourself, though. My wand is a little unpredictable with spell work."

Harry and Ron left Hermione in her lavender nightmare; she could hear them chatting animatedly as they headed back in the direction of their own rooms. Ron, in his usual somewhat thoughtless style, had failed to tell Hermione what she was expected to wear for dinner. She opened the wardrobe, where she had already stashed the best of her clothes, and fingered through the assortment critically. Everything in there was for practical everyday use only. She hadn't even followed Harry's advice to pick out some dress robes, assuming that there would be no need.

She was so consumed with sorting through her clothing that she missed the gentle knocking on her door.

"Looking for something to wear down to dinner?" Mrs. Ganymede smiled gently at Hermione, and entered the room to survey the contents of the girl's wardrobe. "Nothing here will do. We uphold the Ganymede tradition of dressing up for dinner, and it looks like you only have day clothes with you."

"I didn't really have a lot of time to pack dress robes." Hermione said, mentally kicking herself for sounding like a spoiled brat.

"I will lend you something to wear." Mrs. Ganymede gently squeezed Hermione's shoulder. "Goodness knows you won't fit anything of mine, but I think I still have a few dresses left from before Romulus was born. We can alter them to suit you."

"Thank you." Hermione turned and smiled at the woman. "I'd appreciate it. I'm sorry if I seem… rude. I've had a really intense couple of days."

"Oh, my darling." Mrs. Ganymede pulled Hermione into a tight hug once again, and Hermione found that she didn't actually mind this time. "Don't you fret on it. I'm hard to offend."

Hermione nodded and extricated herself from the woman's embrace.

"I'll just go get those dresses then." Romulus's mother patted Hermione's hand and dashed from the room.

Mrs. Ganymede returned after only about a minute, levitating a pile of pastel coloured clothing before her. She lowered the items onto Hermione's bed and gestured grandly to what she had procured. Hermione tentatively went over and pulled a peach coloured chiffon party dress from the top of the pile and held it up for inspection.

"Oh no, dear. Not for dinner." Mrs. Ganymede took the dress and with a wave of her wand sent it to the wardrobe where it hung itself up neatly. "That would be alright for a party maybe, or an informal dance. But definitely too much for a dinner."

They went through outfit after outfit, with Romulus's mother declaring each outfit completely wrong and, rather than taking them back from where she had got them, sending them hanging with Hermione's clothes. Hermione was only permitted to try on three outfits in total, and the first two were vetoed immediately for being 'too old' for her. The last outfit was a black silk skirt with a rather poufy white peter-pan collared shirt and a pale blue cashmere jumper that Hermione pulled over the top.

"It's almost perfect." Mrs. Ganymede looked thoughtful for a moment before aiming her wand directly at Hermione's throat, causing the battle weary girl to eye her nervously. "Hold still."

Hermione felt, rather than saw, the string of beads that Mrs. Ganymede conjured wrap themselves around her neck and settle in three long strings. Glancing down she saw that they were lovely creamy white pearls and she fingered them gently, glancing at the older woman before her.

"You look marvellous."

"Thanks." Hermione smiled shyly. "Should we go down now?"

"You head down; I'll just hang the rest of these up." Mrs. Ganymede directed the remainder of the dresses onto hangers and gently steered them into Hermione's wardrobe with the rest.

"Why are you hanging them with my things?" Hermione queried.

"I certainly can't wear them." The older woman laughed gently. "The spells to adjust the sizing on those ones just aren't that forgiving."

"But surely there is someone else you'd rather give them to…" Hermione suggested.

"I have no daughters." Mrs. Ganymede pointed out. "And my brother's children are completely spoiled. They would never wear old clothes. Better these dresses go to someone who can get some use out of them. Besides, as you said, you had to leave all your own dresses behind."

"Well… Thank you." Hermione turned and headed in the direction she hoped led to the grand staircase, not wanting to remain in the room any longer as she was feeling particularly emotional at that stage.

Dinner in the Ganymede household was a lot more stilted and formal than dinner with the Weasley's had ever been. Mrs. Ganymede headed the table, with her son to her immediate right and Harry on her left. Hermione was seated next to Harry, and felt rather the odd one out having to ask to be passed condiments that were just out of reach. Mrs. Ganymede had set another place on the table, next to Ron, that she had informed them was for if Mr. Ganymede returned for dinner.

"He's just so busy at the ministry, poor lamb, that you never know if he will get back for dinner or if he's portkeying off to Egypt or something." She told them.

The Ganymede's had two house elves who worked for them, a fact that made Hermione instantly uneasy, however the elves were cheerful and Mrs. Ganymede often stood up to help them with heavy dishes. They were introduced as Blinky and Bilba, and they both wore clean white pillow cases cinched in at the waist with braided golden curtain ties. Blinky, it became apparent, was the main house elf while Bilba was more of an apprentice; the older elf giving orders like a general to her troops rather than one elf to another.

Dinner consisted of three courses, and Mrs. Ganymede watched Hermione and Harry's food intake closely, constantly urging them to eat more and insisting that the two elves heap extra slices of roasted pork and more mashed potatoes on the guests' plates. Hermione ate until her stomach protested, and still the older woman looked dissatisfied.

"You're a growing girl." She insisted. "You should eat more. You need to fill out."

Harry had the good graces to eat everything he was given, and even helped himself to another plate of potatoes when it was offered. Romulus was given a standard size dinner, and seemed unlikely to complain as even the standard size was well above average.

"Thank you for dinner, Mrs. Ganymede." Harry thanked their hostess, wiping his mouth on a napkin and then handing it to Bilba the house elf. "It was delicious."

"You are most welcome, Harry." Mrs. Ganymede smiled at Harry, before looking fondly at her son. "When Rommy asked if you could stay I was a bit hesitant at first, I admit. I was looking forward to some one on one time with my son. But, it has been pleasant having house guests again."

"You say that now." Harry grinned mischievously. "You haven't seen Hermione in the morning."

Hermione shot Harry a withering look and turned to her other friend. "Didn't you say you'd like to show us the third floor?"

"Oh yeah." Ron stood up from the table. "May I be excused, mother?"

"Of course, Rommy darling." Mrs. Ganymede stood up as well, and after bidding them each goodnight, Ron with a rather bone crushing hug and several well placed kisses on his cheeks and forehead, she excused herself saying she would retire to her bedroom to read.

"So what's upstairs?" Harry asked, following Ron and Hermione to the grand staircase once again.

"It's the arboretum." Ron answered matter-of-factly.

"The what?" Harry asked.

"It's a room full of trees?" Hermione queried at the same time.

"Yeah, sorta." Ron shrugged, You've really got to see it to know what's going on."

They followed Ron up the main staircase, and then up the slightly narrower one that lead up to the third floor landing; broken only by a single white door. Ron pushed the door open and ushered them both through, following behind closely.

The room, if it could be called that, seemed endlessly large and was topped by a domed glass ceiling that showed the darkening night sky; a few stars shyly making their first appearance for the night. The room was essentially a forest, with tall trees of deep shades of red and gold clustered among the greener ones and soft grass giving way beneath their feet. Hermione counted at least thirty different species, and could hear the soft tinkling sound of running water somewhere out of eyesight.

"Holy crap." Harry turned to Ron. "This is an arboretum?"

"This is a very good, and very clearly magically enhanced one." Hermione crouched down to survey a flutterby bush, disturbing the foliage which took flight off into the room somewhere. "I haven't even seen some of these plants in Herbology."

"I told you mother likes plants, didn't I?" Ron shrugged, acting as if he were not impressed by the room. "Anyway, I didn't bring you here for the view. I thought we could use it to make plans… Because it's been silenced from the rest of the house."

"That sounds bloody brilliant." Harry grinned, slapping Ron on the back and walking over to a moss covered log, lowering his tall form onto it. "So let's make plans."

 **Author's note: If you image search chartreuse bedroom on google the third picture along should give you some idea of what Harry's dealing with. Hermione's room is pretty much my nightmare – so much chintz! Rommy Ron had a puffy bedroom, what's his problem- he hasn't even slept there yet! The Arboretum was mum's idea – I stole it and made it my own. But you know, kudos to her for coming up with it. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed that little snippet of life a la Ganymede.**


	11. XI

**Author's Note: Well it's been another long week of work, but here is an update as promised (or if not promised at least implied). Thanks to my faithful reviewers, nothing makes me giggle insanely quite like getting those emails from you all. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

" _I told you mother likes plants, didn't I?" Ron shrugged, acting as if he were not impressed by the room. "Anyway, I didn't bring you here for the view. I thought we could use it to make plans… Because it's been silenced from the rest of the house."_

" _That sounds bloody brilliant." Harry grinned, slapping Ron on the back and walking over to a moss covered log, lowering his tall form onto it. "So let's make plans."_

… …. …. ….. …. …

Harry, Hermione and Ron sat cross legged in the ankle-deep grass of the arboretum, a plate piled with finger sandwiches between them and the midday sun beating down through the glass domed ceiling above. They had been spending lunchtimes in the silenced room for the past week, as they found that this was when the room was not in use by Mrs. Ganymede, and had discussed their situation in quite some detail already.

Their plans entailed getting enrolled at Hogwarts, getting close enough to Tom Riddle to discover where he had hidden the two Horcruxes he should have made already, and then destroying them before destroying the future dark lord himself. It wasn't a particularly fool-proof plan, as much of it revolved around destroying horcruxes, something that the trio knew was no mean feat.

"I think we need to start writing this down." Ron suggested, picking up a sandwich and sniffing its filling rather dubiously.

"It's salmon, Ronald, and we cannot write this down." Hermione eyed her friend. "What if someone finds it?"

"You can just curse the parchment like you did with Dumbledore's Army." Ron suggested.

"It doesn't work that way." Hermione rolled her eyes.

"We could write it in code." Harry glanced down at the makeshift picnic between them. "We could call You Know Who 'sandwiches' and we will refer to Horcruxes as 'bread'."

Ron burst into loud laughter, and lay back on the grass clutching his stomach.

"It's not that funny, Ron." Harry grinned despite himself.

"It is. Imagine the note. We aim to kill sandwiches, but first we must destroy his bread." Ron lost himself to his raucous laughing once more.

"That's not a bad idea." Hermione mused, taking up the idea. "We can replace key words with inane ones so that anyone else reading the note will think we are discussing lunch."

"Kill sandwiches…" Ron was laughing so hard his face had turned a rather disturbing shade of plum.

"Okay, so let's call Voldy 'Sandwiches' we will replace the word kill with 'eat' and the word horcruxes with 'bread'." Harry suggested, giving his best mate a few solid thumps on the back to calm his laughter down.

Hermione pulled a piece of parchment toward her and carefully wrote something down before holding it up to her friends.

"We aim to eat sandwiches by finding and destroying the bread." Harry swallowed a smile. "Maybe we should change the word destroying to 'slicing'."

"We aim to eat sandwiches by finding and slicing the bread." Hermione corrected the page. "Firstly, we need to find a way to slice the bread."

"Sword of Gryffindor." Ron piped up, having finally gotten over his laughing fit. "Worked last time."

"It only worked because it was infused with basilisk venom." Hermione pointed out. "Basilisk venom isn't something easy to come by."

"We destroyed the diary and the cup with a basilisk fang." Harry suggested.

"Again, not exactly easy to come by. It's not like we have a dirty great big basilisk just laying around…" Hermione cut herself off. "Oh Merlin, I'm an idiot."

"We do have a dirty great big basilisk just laying around." Harry caught on to Hermione's train of thought. "In the chamber."

"And we know where the entrance is." Ron grinned broadly.

"Yes but the only reason Harry was able to destroy it last time was because Fawkes came and blinded it and cured Harry when it bit him. No offense, Harry, but I don't think you could have done it without Fawkes's help." Hermione gave harry an apologetic half-smile.

"No offense taken. I definitely couldn't have done it alone." Harry shrugged. "Maybe we could just tell the staff that we found the chamber and there's a giant basilisk inside."

"That won't sound half sus." Ron interjected. "Hi professor, we were hanging in the girls' toilet practicing our parseltongue when we accidentally discovered a chamber, and somehow managed to figure out that it houses a basilisk without looking it in the eye and dying."

"Well when you put it like that…" Harry grumbled. "Dumbledore would believe us."

"He might." Hermione agreed. "But we cannot tell him who we are without putting the whole timeline in danger. You know the law Harry; nobody can know where we come from."

"How do we kill a basilisk if we don't have a spare phoenix and a handy goblin made sword?" Ron asked.

"We need a rooster." Hermione smiled. "I remember reading that the crow of a rooster is fatal to a basilisk."

"So we fill the chamber with roosters?" Harry seemed unimpressed. "It can't be that simple."

"We used to have a rooster back at the burrow." Ron muttered, his eyes glazing over for a brief moment. "Damn thing would go mental whenever the sun came up."

"Well that is when roosters crow, Ronald." Hermione's tone was somewhat condescending.

"Well then how do you propose to make a rooster crow miles underground?" Ron snapped.

"Good point." Harry looked between his two friends, reaching for the parchment and penning something down. "We aim to eat sandwiches by finding and slicing the bread with a knife, knife is basilisk fang, that we will get from a rooster in the dark."

"It does sound rather complicated when you put it like that." Hermione mused. "But we don't really have any other way. I'll start researching how to make a rooster crow in the dark, you two research ways to remove basilisk fangs without getting yourselves envenomed."

Hermione jotted a few more notes on the page.

"We aim to eat sandwiches by finding and slicing the bread with a knife that we will get from a rooster in the dark. G will research roosters while W and P find out how to get the knife." Hermione smiled at them. "I figure if we use our surname initial nobody will know who is who."

"That has to be the weirdest sentence we have ever written." Harry commented, causing Ron to snigger.

"I've written stranger." Hermione shrugged. "I helped Luna with a Care of Magical Creatures assignment once."

The three all smiled fondly, remembering their peculiar Ravenclaw friend and her affection for imaginary creatures. Hermione absentmindedly reached for a sandwich and found the plate to be empty except for a few crumbs.

"Ronald, you ate all the food!" She glared at her friend, habit making her automatically assume the culprit.

"Not me." Ron snapped.

"Sorry." Harry looked sheepish. "I was hungry.

"You will be sorry, Harry James, if you don't march back down to the kitchen and bring me back some sandwiches." Hermione levelled her pale eyed glare on her tall friend. "And hurry up."

"She's scary when she's hungry." Ron laughed, dodging Hermione as she swatted at him.

"She doesn't scare me." Harry said, standing up obediently anyway. "Little thing like her…"

"I am not little!" Hermione shrieked in indignation. "I am just height challenged!"

Harry laughed as he left the arboretum; returning a few minutes later with a fresh plate of sandwiches, and a second plate containing evenly sliced scones spread with strawberry jam and whipped cream. He placed the plates on the ground between them and sat back down, helping himself to more food eagerly.

"I saw your mother downstairs." Harry turned to Ron, "She wants us to come down and help with the preparations for your party after we've finished lunch. It's tonight, after all."

"Oh Merlin." Ron paled. "I forgot all about the stupid party."

"Really? It's all Mrs. Ganymede can talk about." Hermione daintily wiped some sandwich crumbs away from her mouth. "I told her we would take care of decorations."

"How are we going to do that?" Ron asked. "You can't do magic outside of school still, and my wand is rubbish."

"Hermione can do magic. She doesn't have the trace." Harry pointed out.

"Yeah but she's fifteen." Ron argued. "If anyone sees her they'll know something is up."

"Well I am eighteen." Harry said. "So respect the opinions of your elder and let Hermione do the spells. She's better at spells anyway."

"You're eighteen?" Ron asked.

"You really are useless, Ronald. Check the date." Hermione teased her friend.

"August 4th." Ron waved his wand and the shimmering date disappeared. "So what?"

"Harry's birthday is July 31st…" Hermione prompted.

"You mean… we forgot your birthday?" Ron looked aghast. "I'm so sorry, man."

"It's fine." Harry laughed. "We've been busy planning the slicing of bread and eating of sandwiches."

"We should get downstairs soon, in case Rommy's mother decides to come looking for us." Hermione dusted herself off and, carefully folding the piece of parchment containing their plans, placed it into the pocket of her cream colored day dress.

"She's right." Harry agreed. "Let's go."

The three teens navigated their way down to the large entrance hall together, quietly teasing one another the entire way. Mrs. Ganymede was found fussing over some flower arrangements that Blinky and Bilba had been working on.

"They're too pink." Mrs. Ganymede insisted. "Rommy doesn't like pink."

"Too right he doesn't." Muttered Ron; Harry and Hermione stifling their laughter.

"We can change the color." Harry demonstrated the spell for the fussing matron.

"Oh, Harry. Whatever did I do without you?" Mrs. Ganymede smiled. "I completely forgot how to do color changing charms."

Harry set to work changing the offending flowers from pink to Chudley Cannons Orange, much to the approval of Ron, while Hermione manually hung up streamers around the room without magic. Mrs. Ganymede seemed thrilled at having the teens help, and often lavished them with praise, however surprised them by commenting on the flowers.

"Don't you think the orange will clash with Romulus's red hair?" Mrs. Ganymede asked airily, fingering a rose petal thoughtfully.

"My hair is blonde, mother." Ron quickly pointed out, eyeing his two confused friends wearily.

"Is it?" Mrs. Ganymede, scrutinized her son thoughtfully. "So it is. I could have sworn it was red."

"Definitely blonde." Ron assured the woman.

"Silly me." She laughed, turning her eye on the buffet table that was beginning to sag under the combined weight of every kind of cake and pastry imaginable, piled high on resplendent silver plates.

"What the hell was that about?" Ron whispered to Harry and Hermione once his mother was out of hearing range.

"I don't know." Harry shrugged. "She does come out with some rather random things."

"Maybe she's distantly related to Luna." Hermione suggested.

"Do you think she suspects I'm not her ickle Rommykins?" Ron asked, lowering his voice further.

"I doubt it." Harry and Hermione both eyed the large cake, iced in black and yellow so that it resembled an oversized bumblebee, with the words 'Welcome Back Romulus' glittering in pink cursive letters from the banner above it.

"She seems pretty sure that she's got her son back." Hermione affirmed. "I think she is just a bit out of it sometimes. She probably genuinely thought her son had red hair or something."

"I don't like it." Ron frowned. "I think she suspects something."

"Rommy, would you help mummy with this Gypsophila, I think it needs your delicate touch." Mrs. Ganymede called out, her arms heavy with large bunches of Baby's Breath.

"Yep, she really suspects you're an imposter." Harry deadpanned, rolling his eyes. "Go help your mother."

"Whatever." Ron grumbled, annoyed that his friends did not share his concerns. "Coming mother!"

Harry helped Hermione finish off the decorating, directing boughs of tropical looking summer foliage around the room and conjuring up more silver and orange streamers as instructed, and soon the entrance hall met with even Mrs. Ganymede's approval.

"You two should go get changed soon." Mrs. Ganymede prompted once she had finished surveying their handiwork. "Romulus's guests will be arriving shortly."

Hermione fished through her now bulging wardrobe, pulling out a few party dresses and eyeing them critically. Mrs. Ganymede had impressed upon all of them the sort of clothing they should wear to a social gathering, but Hermione was still having trouble settling on a dress.

The first option was a dusky pink chiffon strapless number with a layered skirt and lace trim. Hermione held the dress up to her small body and heaved a shudder, the lace on the dress reminded her of the dresses she had seen little girls wear when playing princess, back in her own time. Hermione discarded the dress and picked up another.

This one was blood red with a v-neck and capped sleeves. The skirt was somewhat less poufy, but the neckline left little to the imagination, little being the operative word. Though Hermione found that she had filled out a little over the past week, she was still rather childlike in physique and wearing a revealing dress would only emphasize this fact.

The next dress Hermione pulled out was a deep green color and boasted long sleeves and a stiff collar. It was what Hermione had heard called a wraparound dress, and it tied at the waist with a large bow; the satin material keeping the bow stiff. Hermione shed her day dress and pulled the green one over her head, surveying her reflection critically in the mirror. She didn't look like a seven-year-old, which was pleasing, but she also didn't look like a scarlet woman or hussy. This was good enough for her, So Hermione smoothed out the heavy skirt and smiled.

Making sure nobody was around to see, Hermione pointed her wand at her unruly dark curls and muttered the now-familiar spell to weave the mess into an elegant style. Satisfied that this was as good as it was going to get, Hermione pulled on a pair of black sandals and trudged back downstairs to face the party.

 **Author's note: Next is the party, and my easy way to introduce a few more characters into the mix. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, in particular the super-secret code they have come up with to write down their plans – which will feature again at some stage I'm sure. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm off to go eat sandwiches, after I've sliced some bread…**


	12. XII

**Author's note: And here we have it, the party of the century. Okay, more like the party of that week… or the only party on that particular night… anyway – it's a party! Enjoy!**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

 _Making sure nobody was around to see, Hermione pointed her wand at her unruly dark curls and muttered the now-familiar spell to weave the mess into an elegant style. Satisfied that this was as good as it was going to get, Hermione pulled on a pair of black sandals and trudged back downstairs to face the party._

… … … **.. . . . .**

Hermione watched on in fascinated horror as all of Mrs. Ganymede's guests arrived. It was clear that wealthy pureblood manners were on a whole other level to what Hermione was used to. As each family arrived they were announced at the door by the two competent house elves, Blinky and Bilba. The guests, rather than rushing forward to meet their hostess, merely stood in the doorway until Mrs. Ganymede came forward and thanked them for coming. Ron, as the person for whom the party was being thrown, was asked to stand a few steps up the grand staircase so that he was in plain view of everyone and occasionally the odd well-dressed wizard would step forward to shake his hand and offer insincere congratulations at overcoming the odds against him and recovering his mind.

Soon the entrance hall to the Ganymede home was bustling with people, and someone had enchanted a three-piece band into playing soft mood music to the room. Blinky and Bilba darted to and fro, trays of drinks teetering dangerously in their hands. Harry had been forced into polite conversations with Mrs. Ganymede and a few older witches and Hermione was left to the side of the room, near the dining hall; people watching and trying to take mental stock as to whom the main players in the room were.

"You prefer to stand alone, do you?" Hermione was snapped out of her observations by a cool, smooth voice. "Rather singular."

Hermione surveyed the young man who had joined her on the sidelines. He was tall, but nowhere near Harry's unusual height, with a long lean body and cropped dark hair. His eyes, deep pools of chocolate, looked slightly amused by the goings on around him.

"And you are?" Hermione asked cautiously, not recognizing the boy from any of the pictures she had familiarized herself with before coming back in time.

"Alphard Black." He responded, surveying Hermione with a tilted head. "I've not seen you around before."

"I'm new." Hermione replied, returning Alphard's crooked gaze. "And yes, I prefer to stand alone."

"Such manners." Alphard smiled lazily. "Didn't your parents teach you to be polite to others."

"I suppose they might of," Hermione smiled primly. "Had they not died."

"An orphan?" Alphard looked pleased. "All alone in the world."

"Not alone." Hermione smiled in relief at the familiar European accented voice that belonged to her unusually tall best friend; Harry once again coming to her rescue.

"Alphard Black." Alphard thrust his hand out to Harry. "Slytherin and wizard extraordinaire."

"Harry James." Harry shook Alphard's hand firmly. "Hermione's overprotective best friend."

"I was merely engaging the girl in conversation." Alphard smiled broadly. "That's what one does at these social events. I am told you are both refugees from the war in Europe."

"Word travels fast." Hermione mused.

"Indeed it does." Alphard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps you would both give me the pleasure of making your social introductions."

Before Harry or Hermione could so much as respond, Alphard was waving over a few teens of around their age to join them.

"May I introduce my siblings, Cygnus and Walburga, as well as Avery and his ever faithful sidekick, Lestrange." Alphard pointed to each person as he introduced them.

Cygnus, much to Hermione's surprise, had shoulder length light colored hair that was reminiscent of the Lucius Malfoy of her own time. His eyes were the same chocolate brown as his brother's, however, and he had delicate features; the same that his daughter Narcissa would inherit. He held himself with an air of indifference, and did not make eye contact with any member of the party.

Walburga wore her dark hair in a tight, restrictive bun, and she might have been good looking had her face not bore a permanent look of appall. On her hand she wore an enormous engagement ring, a heavy emerald surrounded by tiny glittering diamonds set in a white gold band. The emerald bore a small carving of the Black family crest; Hermione recognized the prancing greyhounds from the family tree in Grimmauld Place.

"Who are you introducing us to, brother?" Walburga Black asked icily, eyeing Harry and Hermione with distaste.

"These are the two refugees Hogwarts has taken in." Alphard supplied. "Harry James and Hermione…er…"

"Jean." Hermione offered.

"Right." Alphard grinned. "Walburga has already graduated, but Cygnus, Avery and Lestrange will be at school with us."

"A pleasure." Avery stepped forward and bowed to Hermione; Lestrange following suit. Lastly, Cygnus Black nodded his head in her direction but did not utter a word.

Harry, catching on quickly, bowed to Walburga Black whose pinched expression softened slightly upon seeing his manners.

"I do not believe I have heard the names Jean and James in the old wizarding circles." Walburga commented, as if trying to confirm her suspicions about the two newcomers.

"They are old names in Europe." Harry quickly responded. "But it would be safe to assume that we moved in different social circles."

The way Harry said it, it seemed as if he were inferring that Walburga Black was from a lesser social standing than Harry or Hermione, and the two time travelers exchanged slight smiles acknowledging the apparent insult. Harry, Ron and Hermione had decided that in order to not instantly antagonize the dark lord or any of his followers, they would have to claim to be from pureblooded stock; but this wouldn't stop them from poking fun at future death eaters and Voldemort sympathizers.

"I am a Jean, of the French Jean's." Hermione responded, her hackles rising. "Perhaps there is a reason we are not well known; we like to keep our affairs private."

"I beg your pardon. I am a member of the most noble house of Black, I will not be spoken to as such." Walburga looked highly affronted. "Not by some…some…European!"

"Sister, why don't you go find that fiancée of yours?" Alphard suggested, placating. "He will be wanting to show off that ring he gave you."

"Walburga is marrying Orion Black." Cygnus spoke up for the first time. "It will be the wedding of the decade."

"Everyone will be there." Lestrange supplied, turning his attention away from his cuticles and onto the conversation.

"Everyone." Avery affirmed, also joining in.

"She certainly won't be." Walburga sniffed, waving her hand dismissively in Hermione's direction.

"I am crushed." Hermione muttered, rolling her eyes and earning, strangely, a half smile from the quieter of the Black brothers.

"There you are." Ron waved at his friends and, pushing his way through the mingling crowd, made his way over. "Mother has made me kiss every old biddy here. On the cheek, of course."

"Romulus." Alphard smiled brightly. "So happy to see a wizard of your standing back with us. It really would be a shame to lose someone of your…caliber."

"I bet Hogwarts is glad to have you back." Avery quipped. "It's wizards like you who keep the OWL's commission grading on a curve."

"How many OWL's did you get; can you remind us?" Lestrange sneered. "Two? Three?"

"So three more than the number of dates he went on last year." Walburga joined in, somehow managing to look down on Romulus even though she was a few centimeters shorter than him.

"At least I don't have to marry my first cousin." Ron shot back. "What's wrong, Walburga? Couldn't find someone outside your immediate family to tolerate you?"

"How dare you!" Walburga hissed. "Orion and I share a deep affection…"

"For the name Black, you mean." Ron was not letting his insult go. "That's one surefire way to keep the bloodlines pure: incest."

"This marriage was planned by our parents before we were born!" Walburga was struggling to control her volume.

"So you couldn't even find someone willing to marry you, your mummy and daddy had to arrange it for you!"

Harry, Hermione, the Black brothers and Avery and Lestrange all took a distancing step back from the quarreling pair, not wanting to be drawn in.

"At least I have a fiancée. You'll be lucky to buy a bride, given your lack of skill with magic, and women." Walburga's restrictive bun came loose as she gestured to Ron, a few locks of dark hair falling in her face.

"What's going on? Why are you quarrelling?" A dark haired boy who looked a good few years older than them, perhaps in his twenties, approached the group and rested his left hand, bearing the Black family signet ring, heavily on the angry girl's shoulder. Orion Black had joined the conversation. "Walburga, you look flustered. You need to address your appearance before anyone sees you in this state."

Walburga, rather than arguing, sullenly nodded her head and left the room quietly in search of a powder room. Her brothers both looked like they might argue, but neither spoke up; their pureblood manners overtaking their urge to shield their sister from derision.

"Orion, this is Hermione Jean and Harry James. They are Hogwarts' newest additions." Avery introduced.

"They are refugees." Lestrange felt the need to add.

"I know." Orion Black did not bow or offer his hand to either of the new acquaintances. "I am heading the school board this year. Dippet was simply thrilled with their performance in the entrance exams, couldn't stop raving."

"Aren't you a little young to head the school board?" Hermione queried.

"Aren't you a little young to be insulting your betters? First years are not entitled to opinions, nor may they voice them." Orion Black quipped back.

Harry and Ron both immediately took a step back, knowing instinctively what was coming.

"Firstly," Hermione gritted her teeth and spoke succinctly, her tone increasing in volume as she gained momentum. "I was not insulting you, I was asking a question. People do that, you know, query things that do not necessarily make sense. Secondly, I am not young. I am fifteen. I will be sixteen next month. I am starting my final year of schooling. So kindly refrain from making any aspersions toward my character, or my age, when you are so clearly ill informed!"

Orion Black spluttered, rage transforming his features and making everyone except Hermione take a step away from him. "Why you little chit. How dare you speak to the head of the most noble house of Black in such a manner."

"I don't care what your name is, or your birthright. I will speak to you however I see fit!" Hermione was really on a roll now.

"Hermione." Harry warned whilst Ron darted nervous glances between his friend and the angry man in front of her, clearly not wanting to attract any more attention to the younger element of the party.

"What? he insulted me. I am not a bloody first year, and nobody has the right to try and make me feel lesser, no matter how long the broomstick they have shoved up their…"

Hermione's mouth formed her chosen word, but no sound came out. She tried again, but again no sound. Suspiciously, she eyed her two friends but was surprised to see that it was Cygnus Black, the pale haired brother, who had his wand pointed in her direction. She levelled her death glare at him and he waved his wand, lifting the silencing charm.

"I thought you might not want the entire party to hear you cuss out pureblooded nobility." Cygnus said quietly, as Orion Black strode purposefully away in search of his fiancee. "It probably isn't the impression you want to make."

Hermione frowned, and glanced around to see that her, admittedly loud, argument with Orion Black had indeed drawn some attention from the nearby gentry. She gave Cygnus Black an embarrassed smile, and nodded, acknowledging that he was correct in his assumption.

"Well this has been positively stimulating." Alphard Black grinned. "I do love an explosive argument and anyone who insults Orion Black is a friend of mine."

"Quiet, Alphard." Cygnus hissed, indicating that some of the adults still had not turned back to their own conversations. "You say too much."

"I'm just saying that Walburga's engaged to a prat. Who doesn't already know this?" Alphard queried.

"I've only known him five minutes and I already know this." Ron added, relishing the chance to insult another Black.

"What are you talking about? You've known Orion your whole life. He is the one that tried to have you excommunicated from all social gatherings when you weren't sorted into Slytherin." Alphard looked genuinely puzzled.

"I forgot." Ron shrugged. "Took an obliviate to the head, remember?"

"Right." Alphard's face lit up with a smile, and he tipped a champagne flute toward Ron in a salute. "You know; I think I might like this new version of you. You certainly have interesting friends."

 **Author's Note: I am so, so , so , so, so , so SOOOO sorry to have left you hanging. The truth is, I reserve Sunday's as my writing days and last Sunday I was at a dog show all day and thus had no time to write. But, I promise I will try to make up for lost time. Perhaps a double update? Perhaps more of the brothers Black?**


	13. XIII

**Author's Note: I know Hermione seems very quick to anger, but you have to remember that she has been faced with that same comment about her age five hundred times in a row, and she is predisposed to dislike the people she knows will aspire to evil. The whole point of this story is Hermione growing to understand that things are not just black and white, there are many shades of grey inbetween – just not fifty of them…this isn't that kind of story ;)**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

" _What are you talking about? You've known Orion your whole life. He is the one that tried to have you excommunicated from all social gatherings when you weren't sorted into Slytherin." Alphard looked genuinely puzzled._

" _I forgot." Ron shrugged. "Took an obliviate to the head, remember?"_

" _Right." Alphard's face lit up with a smile, and he tipped a champagne flute toward Ron in a salute. "You know; I think I might like this new version of you. You certainly have interesting friends."_

… … **. …. …. …. …. ….**

The natural upside to the combination of 1940's politeness and the wizarding world's pureblooded society having very formal old fashioned manners, was that Mrs. Ganymede never heard about Hermione making a spectacle of herself at Ron's party. In fact, it appeared that friendship in the pureblood circle was a very superficial thing, and they barely spoke of personal matters beyond immediate family.

Another bright spot on an otherwise unfortunate day for Hermione was that she had learnt loads about future death eaters and Voldemort supporters. She could now mentally catalogue faces to names she had read about or heard mentioned in conjunction to dark magic; and she was further able to tell how each pureblood family was intertwined with the next.

For example, Romulus Ganymede was actually a distant cousin on his father's side to the Black family, which spoke of why he had been raised somewhat alongside the similarly aged Walburga, Cygnus and Alphard. Mrs. Ganymede, it turned out, was the daughter of Corvus Trelawney and Ursa Prewitt, a fact confirmed by her older brother Eridanus Trelawney, who balanced a wide eyed toddler on his hip introduced as his youngest daughter, and Romulus's cousin, Sybill.

Mrs. Ganymede's grandmother was none other than Cassandra Trelawney, the famous seer, and Ron was suddenly convinced that his new mother was going to 'see' that he was an imposter and have him carted off to Azkaban Prison, no matter how many times Hermione tried to assure him that Divination was not a real skill, and that it was incredibly unlikely that Mrs. Ganymede could 'see' much of anything.

"But she knew I had red hair!" Ron was quick to point out, as they further discussed this upstairs in the Arboretum after the party. "She knew!"

"Take it from me, the only person in this room to have seen a real prediction made, if your mum had received a vision about it she certainly wouldn't remember." Harry tried to reassure his best friend in his own way.

"I'm still keeping clear of her, just in case."

"That will only look more suspicious, if she even suspects anything…" Hermione pointed out.

"You can't avoid her. You know how all over you she is." Harry said, laughing at Ron's shudder as he remembered all the tight hugs and pinched cheeks he received on a daily basis from his mother.

"Just keep acting normal." Hermione pushed. "At least until we get to school. It's just a few weeks."

Those few weeks flew by in a flurry of Diagon Alley visits and social gatherings that Hermione and Harry were invited to out of sheer politeness. The two Black brothers continued to seek out the 'refugees', but they were the only Blacks who could tolerate Hermione, who had made the unfortunate mistake of insulting the head of the family. The result was that a tenuous friendship was struck between Harry, Hermione, Romulus, Cygnus and Alphard.

Alphard was prone to boisterous behavior and loud grand gestures, something that painfully reminded the time travelers of Sirius Black, Harry's former godfather who would one day inherit part of the Black family fortune from the very same uncle whose personality he mirrored. Alphard was teasing, jovial and outwardly manipulative in a way that made Harry and Hermione want to laugh rather than take offense. He even warmed up to Ron, or rather the 'new' Romulus, who he announced as being much improved. He told anyone who would listen that if he'd known an obliviate to the head would make such a marked improvement on the Hufflepuff, he'd have provided one much sooner.

Cygnus was a lot quieter and contained, and clung to his manners like a comforting blanket. He rarely cracked a smile, seemed embarrassed by his brother's outgoing nature and only spoke if he had something insightful to offer. Hermione by far preferred him to his younger brother, as it had been revealed that Alphard was only sixteen whilst Cygnus was in his seventh year, as the elder Black was less inclined to tease her and not once did he say something to deliberately rile her up.

Surprisingly, at no stage did any of the time travelers run into the person they were simultaneously loath to and anticipatory of meeting. Tom Riddle, it seemed, did not run in the same social circles as his future supporters, and Harry, Ron and Hermione had no way of asking about him given their chosen backstories. Hermione tried, at one stage, by asking who the Head Boy would be that year, but the Black's shrugged the question off, Alphard assuring her that Cygnus would be overlooked and he was still too young to take the mantle.

Harry and Hermione found their new 'friends' to be a wealth of knowledge, and probed them with many questions about Hogwarts, the curriculum (Hermione), the rumors regarding the Chamber of Secrets (Harry) and exactly where each common room was located, all subjects Alphard was happy to fill them in on. Many long summer days were spent in this manner, talking with the Black brothers and, in Hermione's case, avoiding all contact with their extended family.

Finally, August ticked over into September, and it was time to catch the Hogwarts Express. Mrs. Ganymede decided to wake each of them individually, her house elves providing balanced trays of breakfast in bed whilst the matron rattled on about how good their year would be. She spent extra time with Hermione, finding it endlessly exciting to finally have another female in the house, or so she told them.

"You really did choose the best time to come to Hogwarts." Mrs. Ganymede told Hermione as she lay out a travelling cloak and some fashionable pieces of everyday wear for the younger girl. "My final year at Hogwarts was all parties and balls. It's the year you really get to make social connections that will solidify your future. I met my husband in my seventh year at Hogwarts. He was the dashing ministry official, and I the youthful girl seeking employment advice. It was love at first sight."

Hermione held the floral day dress up to her figure and frowned, a short month ago the dress had been altered to fit her small frame but now, as she stretched it across her flat stomach the dress looked taught and unlikely to give. Mrs. Ganymede was paying little attention, still happily packing the dresses neatly into Hermione's trunk and chattering away about the sort of parties Hermione was likely to be invited to.

"Of course, we didn't have old Slughorn as a teacher in my day." Mrs. Ganymede continued. "And Rommy has never been invited to one of his get-togethers, but Cygnus tells me that they are very good for meeting high-ups in the ministry, and Alphard says the girls that attend are the marrying sort, whatever you take from that."

"What does one wear to a Slug-Club meeting?" Hermione asked, hoping to draw the woman's attention onto her clothing conundrum. "Something like this?"

Mrs. Ganymede looked aghast. "Not a day dress! Have I taught you nothing, dear girl?" The matron finally focused on the garment. "All of your things will need altering again. I think you've grown. You've definitely filled out and you look a little taller. I knew all you'd need is a good meal or two. Dreadfully skinny, you were. You looked like a fresh faced first year when I met you, but now you could almost pass for third."

Mrs. Ganymede made the appropriate alterations to the day dress with her wand and then instructed Hermione on how to repeat the spell on her other things once they had arrived at the school. Hermione, as a show of appreciation for the older woman's help, refrained from commenting on yet another mention of her age.

"Oh, it will be ever so lonely without you all here." Mrs. Ganymede lamented, sitting on Hermione's bed and helping herself to some leftover toast while Hermione dressed. "I have gotten so used to having you."

"Will you be here all alone?" Hermione asked, genuinely interested. "What about Mister Ganymede?"

Mister Ganymede had yet to make an appearance, not even at his son's welcome back party the month prior. Mrs. Ganymede often told them how his job with the ministry took him all over the world and kept him out late. Even Ron, who had miraculously woken in St Mungo's, had not had so much as a word from the man. It was like he didn't exist, except to send foreign antiquities via owl post.

"Mister Ganymede is in Angola meeting with their Chief Warlock." Mrs. Ganymede informed the younger girl somewhat sullenly. "He sends his regrets that he was unable to see you all off today."

"Oh, I would have liked to have met him." Hermione patted the older woman on the hand, smiling broadly.

"Well, I am sure you will. Romulus invited you for Christmas break, did he not?" Mrs. Ganymede had only mentioned the next holiday period at least ten times that week, probing her son to invite his guests back in very unsubtle ways.

"Yes, he did say something about it." Hermione held back the grin threatening to break out. "He said he wasn't sure if he was coming home this year."

Mrs. Ganymede looked outraged, and instantly sprung to her feet and marched out of Hermione's room without another word, an aura of indignation following in her wake. Hermione eyed the lavender explosion that had been her room one last time before waving her wand at her trunk to lock it tightly. She would miss the freedom and peace she had felt that summer. With the commencement of school came the return of her responsibilities.

She owed it to her friends, her family and the world she had come from to focus her attention on their plans, but it had been nice, even for one measly month, to not have to dwell on it. She had enjoyed simply spending time with her friends and getting to know the Blacks, as much as they could get to know any closed off purebloods. She had a feeling the year to come would not be as relaxed or as simple as the summer had been.

"Ready to go, Hermione?" Harry asked from the doorway. "Ron's begging to leave soon because his mummy is giving him too much love and attention. He says it's going to make him soft."

"Ron is soft." Hermione snorted. "I saw the parting gift he left for her downstairs."

"You saw that too?" Harry's face broke out into a tired grin. "I think he was hoping neither of us would notice…"

"It's a bit hard not to notice a giant pot of Lullaby Lilies." Hermione pointed out. "Especially when they sing softly about Romulus missing his mother."

Harry laughed outright. "He tried to silence them earlier this morning, I watched him from the landing. It just made them hum the tune for a couple of minutes instead."

Hermione shrank her trunk and dropped it into the deep pocket of her travelling cloak, along with her wand.

"So I suppose this is it." She said. "We're off to Hogwarts."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." Ron had appeared in the doorway, pushing Harry to the side so that he could join the conversation. "No more cling-on mothers could only be a good thing."

"But I thought 'Romulus misses his mother like no other'." Harry joked, dodging the half-hearted punch that Ron aimed at his shoulder.

"Yes, those flowers are beautiful, Ronald." Hermione added, "'Romulus will always miss her, and never wont kiss her.' Did you come up with those lyrics yourself, or did someone help you with the double negative?"

"Shut up." Ron glowered. "I felt bad. I took over from her son, I couldn't just bugger off in this body without giving her something. I might never come back, you know."

"'Romulus knows that it's mushy, but her hugs are so cushy…'" Harry couldn't help himself, and silently shielded himself from the hex Ron had sent his way. "You couldn't teach the lilies a better set of lyrics?"

"They came with the song." Ron's face was tinged red with embarrassment. "All the shopkeeper did was teach them my name. I didn't write it."

"Oh Rommy." Hermione teased. "Who knew you were such a softy?"

"Let's just go already." The sandy haired by snapped, grabbing Hermione and Harry's hands and dragging them downstairs to the agreed disapparation point. They were each given a lengthy dose of mothering by the Ganymede matriarch before she allowed them to leave, Harry sidelong apparating Hermione with him.

The three of them apparated onto the crowded platform 9 and 3/4's and were immediately jostled out of the apparition zone by throngs of students all clamoring to find a spot on the busy train. Hermione saw an open compartment door that looked unoccupied and ushered the two boys over to it, tossing her shrunken trunk up into the luggage rack and resizing it quickly. Harry and Ron followed suit, essentially claiming the compartment as their own before turning back to the platform.

"Do you see anyone we know?" Hermione asked, kneeling on the cushioned seat to leverage herself a better view of the platform below.

"Any death eaters, you mean?" Ron scowled. "I can spot Mulciber, Lestrange and Avery talking to a mountain, probably the offspring of Crabbe or Goyle and a mountain troll."

"I can see Cygnus Black." Harry added. "I think we should wave them over. If we sit in a compartment with the Slytherin contingency, then we will be more likely to run into you know who."

"Alphard is over there chatting to that bunch of Slytherin girls." Hermione pointed. "I don't think we'll be able to get his attention."

Harry waved maniacally anyway, and to their surprise Cygnus, spotting the three of them thanks to Harry, cracked a small smile and approached, his blonde hair tied neatly with a black ribbon and his uniform neatly pressed. Hermione was surprised to see Ravenclaw blue and bronze adorning his uniform as he grew closer, a Ravenclaw tie forming the perfect Windsor knot at his throat.

"You're a Ravenclaw?" Hermione exclaimed with surprise.

"As you see." Cygnus responded nonplussed.

"I thought all the Blacks were in Slytherin. Isn't that what Alphard told us?" Harry queried.

"Alphard says a great many things. It's up to you to decide what is truth and what is purely for his entertainment." Cygnus shrugged and heaved his black and silver trunk into the racks above them.

"Will he be joining us on the train?" Ron asked, watching the Slytherin engaging yet more of his house-brethren in conversation.

"My brother will undoubtedly choose to make an appearance when it best suits him." Cygnus opened a book and essentially put an end to their enquiries.

 **Author's Note: So as promised, another chapter. I greatly apologize for anything that doesn't make sense and or is a mistake – in my rush to give you an extra chapter I completely neglected the whole proofreading malarkey…**


	14. XIV

**Author's Note: Thanks again for all those awesome reviews. I wish I could reply to them all to let you know how much they really inspire me to keep going on with the story, but alas time is fleeting and I feel you'd all much rather an update, so here it is.**

 **Also, in my researching I managed to confuse Cygnus and Alphard black. Alphard was actually supposed to be the middle child; Cygnus was the youngest according to canon. But, since I already fudged that one up, I'm just going with it. So in my story Alphard is younger, but only by a year. He just behaves like a younger brother to me. Anyway, enjoy.**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

" _Alphard says a great many things. It's up to you to decide what is truth and what is purely for his entertainment." Cygnus shrugged and heaved his black and silver trunk into the racks above them._

" _Will he be joining us on the train?" Ron asked, watching the Slytherin engaging yet more of his house-brethren in conversation._

" _My brother will undoubtedly choose to make an appearance when it best suits him." Cygnus opened a book and essentially put an end to their enquiries._

… …. …. … ….. ….. …

Hermione sat with a book propped open on her lap, occasionally thumbing over to the next page and enjoying the gentle rhythm of the Hogwarts Express. True to Cygnus's word, Alphard had popped his head in to say hello, but had opted to sit with people from his own year, and had quickly departed again; but not before solemnly instructing them that they had better get into Slytherin or he would be forced to disown them like Romulus and his brother. Hermione quipped that she would prefer it if he disowned her if it meant he'd leave her alone, and Alphard merely winked at her and left.

Cygnus mirrored Hermione, sitting on the cushioned bench seat next to her, also reading a school text and generally shutting out the rest of the world. They had all been surprised to learn that a member of the Black family had been sorted outside of Slytherin, but it wasn't all that shocking when they took into account his quiet, studious behavior. Cygnus was not as flashy or loud as his brother, and he wasn't as proud and uptight as his sister, Walburga. So it made sense that he was not a good fit for Slytherin. Hermione mentally noted that Cygnus was still accepted by his family, regardless of his unfortunate sorting, and decided that Ravenclaw was definitely in better standing with the Blacks than Gryffindor or Hufflepuff would be.

Ron was flipping through, what else, a quidditch magazine and would, upon occasion, poke Harry not so gently in the side to draw his attention to one move or another. Harry had forked out and purchased the entire contents of the food cart when the trolley witch moved past their compartment. He claimed it was to share, but he was quickly making progress through the mound of food with little help from his friends.

"Are you really going to eat all of that?" Hermione queried as Harry started into another pumpkin pasty.

"It's for everyone to share." Harry insisted, knocking Ron's hand away from a cauldron cake with a sharp look in his friend's direction. "Just not the cauldron cakes. They're my favorite."

"Did you really have to spend so much on food?" Hermione censured, setting aside her book and glancing in Cygnus's direction to ensure he was preoccupied and thus unlikely to listen in. "You know we don't have a lot to work with, and there will be a feast when we arrive."

"I was hungry." Harry muttered, blushing. "And I'll be hungry again at the feast. It's this ruddy body, it needs fuel."

"You really do put us all to shame, with that appetite of yours." Ron teased.

"Talk about trading places." Harry grinned, then coughed when Cygnus looked up and shot him a quizzical glance.

"What do you mean?" Cygnus looked between the two boys opposite.

"Over the holidays we all teased Romulus for his eating habits, and now the shoe is on the other foot." Hermione quickly improvised. "Romulus is the one doing the teasing."

"Huh." Cygnus made a noncommittal sound and closed his textbook. "You should all get changed, we will be arriving soon."

"Where do I change?" Hermione asked, reticent to take off her clothes in front of so many boys; something that had not bothered her particularly when they were on the run during what should have been their seventh year of schooling, but something Hermione suspected would be frowned upon in 1944's Wizarding London.

"The girls' bathroom is up near the heads compartment. I have to go to a prefect meeting, so I can show you." Cygnus offered, standing up and stashing his book back in his trunk.

Hermione pulled out a plain uniform, feeling rather forlorn at the lack of Gryffindor colors around the trim, and followed the quiet Black brother from the compartment. He led her through the familiar halls and in the direction of the prefects' carriage.

"So what does being a prefect entail?" Hermione asked, feeling oddly uncomfortable around the quiet Black brother all of a sudden.

"We patrol the halls at night, can take away and award points and can assign detentions." Cygnus answered succinctly.

"That's just the boring stuff." Alphard had joined them from his open compartment, a shining green and silver prefect's badge pinned smartly to his school robes. "The real perk is the bathroom. The tub alone is worth all the extra paperwork."

"Paperwork?" Hermione thought back to her two years as school prefect and could in no way recall having to do paperwork.

"He's kidding. Only the head boy and girl have to do paperwork. The prefects mostly just enforce the school rules." Cygnus rolled his eyes at his brother.

"Who are the heads again?" Hermione took the chance to try and pry some information about the dark lord once again.

"We're about to find out." Alphard grinned. "The girls' bathroom is the one to the left."

"Thanks." Hermione reluctantly joined the queue for the bathroom and watched the two brothers enter the compartment marked with a shining placard 'Prefects Only'.

Cygnus only returned to the compartment when the train had started to slow and the sun was drooping low on the horizon. Hermione had tried to wait for him after she had gotten changed, but found herself out of place and in the way of other students looking to change in the bathrooms. Eventually she had given up and rejoined her friends down the other end of the train.

"We're arriving." Cygnus informed them, stowing some neatly written notes from his meeting up in his trunk. "Leave your belongings here. They'll be in your rooms once you are sorted."

Harry and Hermione nodded and Hermione stashed away the last few books she had been flicking through while Harry deftly vanished the food wrappers laying empty on the seat between himself and Ron.

"Do they have to take the boats with the first years or can they come in the carriages with us?" Ron asked, watching as the train slowly pulled into the station.

"I thought you couldn't remember anything…" Cygnus gave Ron a suspicious look.

"I can't. But some things I just know and others I don't. It's all very…complicated." Ron looked slightly panicked.

"I read somewhere that some things are conditioned in people's brains to remember. Like signatures and how to write and speak, where as other things like identity are not." Hermione jumped in. "So perhaps Romulus remembers how to get to the school because he has done it so often. It's conditioned into his brain."

"Yeah." Ron latched on to the idea. "It's like how I remember how to go to the toilet, but I didn't recognize my mum when I woke up in the hospital."

"Interesting." Cygnus nodded. "I shall have to do some research on it. Perhaps I can write a paper on it for Charms class extra credit."

"Wow, you really are a Ravenclaw." Harry smiled. "I am told they are the book smart ones. Hermione is definitely going to be sorted there."

"I wouldn't be so sure." Ron smirked. "With her temper it will be Slytherin all the way."

"I'd rather be in Slytherin than in Hufflepuff." Harry pointed out, smiling wickedly.

"Jokes on you, the Hufflepuff dorm is right next to the kitchen." Ron grinned triumphantly as Harry visibly deflated.

"We should go." Cygnus opened the outer compartment door and stepped down, turning to offer his hand to help Hermione manage the drop. "I spoke to the Head boy and he said he thinks it would be okay for you to take the carriages, but that you must wait outside the great hall until you are announced."

"Oh, so you found out who the head boy is then?" Hermione shared a look with each of her two closest friends. "What's his name?"

"His name is Tom Riddle." Cygnus supplied, not catching the silent exchange between his three companions. "He's a Slytherin. The Head girl is a Slytherin also; Druella Rosier."

"What are they like?" Hermione was following Cygnus closely, the other two boys trailing behind and exchanging hushed whispered conversation.

"Riddle is the professors' golden child. He beats me in nearly every class, except transfiguration. And Rosier… she's alright." Cygnus practically spat the dark lord's name like it was a curse word, but his tone softened when he mentioned the female head. "She was my potions partner last year. We did pretty well together."

"Is she good looking?" Harry had caught up to them and was steadfastly pretending that he could not see the creatures drawing the carriages before them.

"Harry!" Hermione whacked her tall friend on the arm, also trying not to look too long at the leathery winged Thestral harnessed in front of her. "What a thing to ask!"

"What? It's a legitimate question." Harry rubbed his arm gingerly. "At least tell me she is nowhere near as violent as Hermione."

"She's worse." Cygnus gave a small smile. "It would be wise not to get on her bad side. She is a Slytherin, after all."

The carriage took them up the familiar drive toward the place that had, for the better part of a decade, been home to the three time travelers. Hermione tried to look awed when the castle came into view, before remembering that she had been there a short month previously.

"It's a fair prospect, is it not?" Cygnus commented, causing Hermione to stifle a fit of giggles; he sounded like someone fresh from a Jane Austen novel, though she doubted he would have heard of the muggle author.

"It's beautiful." Harry commented. "Like a sunrise."

"Idiot." Run muttered, before leading them inside. "Right, so let's go find our seats in the great hall."

Cygnus and Ron left the two 'refugees' by the great hall doors and Hermione was forced to wait as all the last minute stragglers eyed the pair of them and commenced whispering.

"Well this isn't awkward…" Harry joked.

"No, not at all." Hermione shuffled her feet. "Do you think they're all wondering who the new first year is?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Harry scoffed. "You could pass as a very fresh faced fourth year."

Hermione kicked Harry in the shin and he yelped and hopped around, clutching the affected limb and putting on a very Draco Malfoy-esque performance.

"You wait until my father hears about this!" Harry cried. "He's in with the minister, he could have you arrested."

"Ahem." A voice from the great hall doors coughed to get their attention. "The Headmaster has announced you, you may enter."

Hermione nodded, her mood suddenly solemn, and followed the speaker into the hall.

"Do you think that was Bellatrix's mum?" Harry whispered to Hermione as the pair made their way to the front of the hall, aware of every single pair of eyes following their progress.

"Well obviously." Hermione hissed back. "She had the Head Girl badge on. I wonder how she gets her hair to behave."

Harry glanced back at the curly haired Head Girl who had taken a seat at the Slytherin table.

"You should ask her for tips." Harry advised quietly. "Your head looks like an owl has been nesting in it. Did you forget to spell it this morning?"

"I thought I would try something new." Hermione joked. "So I borrowed Mrs. Ganymede's owl."

Harry and Hermione were forced to drop their whispered banter when they reached the front of the hall. No other than Albus Dumbledore was waiting for them with the withered old sorting hat clutched in one hand and a rickety looking wooden stool in the other. The headmaster, Professor Dippet, stood at the podium and cleared his throat to garner the attention of the room once more.

"As I was saying, we are joined this year by two new students, both going into their seventh year. They join us from a private tutor in Europe. I hope they will feel welcome."

"Not likely." Harry muttered under his breath and Hermione giggled, scanning the Hufflepuff table for their other friend and waving jovially.

"Please welcome Mister Harry James and Miss Hermione Jean." Dippet introduced.

There was a commotion over by the Gryffindor table as a round faced blonde girl fell backward from her seat, and the hall broke out in a smattering of laughter. The girl blushed a deep red and waved in apology to the Headmaster, retaking her seat.

"If you are finished making a spectacle of yourself, Miss Longbottom, then may we continue with the sorting?" The headmaster snarked in a very Snape-like manner.

"Sorry professor." Was the mumbled reply.

"Well we know where Neville got it from." Hermione thought aloud, causing Harry to clamp his hand over his mouth.

"Mister James, if you would kindly take a seat and place the sorting hat upon your head, and we shall see where you are to be placed." Dumbledore positioned the stool and then, once Harry was seated handed him the aged hat.

Harry wearily put the offending garment on and waited quietly. Hermione could almost hear the mental argument he was having with the thing. Eventually, Harry screwed up his face and closed his eyes, as if trying to forcefully will the hat into doing his bidding.

"SLYTHERIN!" The hat roared, the green and silver table breaking into polite applause as Harry gave a relieved smile and went to join a beckoning Alphard at the snake house table.

"Miss Jean." Dumbledore prompted and held out the hat.

Hermione sat down on the stool and, hands shaking, placed the sorting hat upon her head.

"Ah, another who can hide nothing from me." The sorting hat's voice buzzed inside her head, but Hermione knew from experience that nobody bar herself could hear what was being said.

"So you have come back in order to try and fix things." The hat continued. "Your mission is a devious one. Get close to someone and then strike. Perhaps you should join your friend in Slytherin."

'Just put me anywhere bar Gryffindor.' Hermione thought.

"Oh, but you are a brave one." The hat said slyly. "Leaving everything behind to save the world. You would be suited to the red and gold."

'Not Gryffindor.' Hermione insisted inside her head. 'Any other house. I cannot be in Gryffindor.'

"You have a longing to be there." The hat insisted. "And yet you ask for something else."

'I cannot be in Gryffindor. It's important.' Hermione was growing frustrated.

"Well then, what will it be, Miss Granger?" The hat questioned.

'What do you mean? Aren't you supposed to choose?' Hermione was confused.

"Oh, I suppose they didn't think to tell you seeing as how they didn't know you've been here before. It is as I told your friend; One sorting per student. You were sorted into Gryffindor House when you were eleven. That was your one sorting. Now you get to choose. So make a decision and I will announce your house."

'I get to choose?' Hermione repeated. 'So you were only pretending you would put me in Gryffindor?'

"I was merely trying to make you think about your options. It is true that you are suited to the red and gold, as well as the silver and green or even the blue and bronze. In fact, I would happily place you in any of the houses. But it is not up to me this time." The hat observed. "Now hurry and make a decision, people are starting to stare."

Hermione glanced around the room and saw that several of the students were looking confounded and whispers were breaking out. The students were wondering what kind of transfer students took so long to be sorted, no doubt, and Hermione didn't really want to give them more to think about.

'Okay, put me in Ravenclaw then.' Hermione snapped mentally. 'I'm intelligent and studious and it's acceptable to Slytherins.'

"Very well." The hat conceded. "RAVENCLAW!"

Hermione stood shakily from the stool and walked over to join Cygnus and the other applauding students at the blue and bronze table. True to the salesperson's word, her plain uniform jumper transformed so that it was trimmed with her new house colors, and Hermione didn't feel quite so out of place as she sat.

"I don't think the hat has ever taken so long to place someone before." Cygnus commented as the fresh faced first years lined up for their own sorting.

"Oh, is it not meant to take that long?" Hermione asked innocently. "That hat was a big fan of conversation. I found it hard to keep it on point."

"Huh." Cygnus shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the front of the room to see Dawkins, Rodger get sorted into Hufflepuff.

 **Author's note: Well there you have it, still no head boy, but a sorting ceremony to remember. I just love the Harry/Hermione banter; it is fun to write so sorry if you feel you had to slug it out. Speaking of slugs, I will be sure to bring in the potions professor again soon. He is such a fun meddlesome old fool, is he not? Anyway, hope you enjoyed.**


	15. XV

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

 **Well another week has passed so it must be time for an update. I hope you enjoy.**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

" _I don't think the hat has ever taken so long to place someone before." Cygnus commented as the fresh faced first years lined up for their own sorting._

" _Oh, is it not meant to take that long?" Hermione asked innocently. "That hat was a big fan of conversation. I found it hard to keep it on point."_

" _Huh." Cygnus shrugged his shoulders and turned back to the front of the room to see Dawkins, Rodger get sorted into Hufflepuff._

… … **. … . .. . … … . . . … …..**

The feast was well underway and Hermione found herself longing for her easy going friends. Keeping the conversation flowing with Harry and Ron had always been a fairly simple task. In fact, sometimes she struggled to keep them on any given subject, as they often found themselves diverting off on some tangent; usually something to do with quidditch.

The Ravenclaw house was not stocked with Harrys or Rons for Hermione to converse with. Instead, she had to rely on Cygnus for company; who liked to eat quietly with a book balanced on the table before him and only engage others in the minimum pleasantries required by polite society. Hermione was at a loss for what to do. She tried several times to draw him into conversation but she found his responses lacking.

She asked about the weather, he would answer matter-of-factly with the exact temperature and wind conditions. She asked for him to pass the salt, he did so wordlessly. She commented on the number of first years, he nodded and made a disinterested sound. Cygnus Black was about as conversational as a brick wall.

The girl sitting opposite, a mahogany eyed beauty with a stick straight russet coloured bob, watched on in amusement at Hermione's attempts to capture Cygnus's attention.

"You won't shake him from that book." She advised when Hermione slumped with defeat. "Black is always reading something or another. He doesn't feel relaxed unless he is at least two weeks ahead of the school curriculum."

Hermione knew that this girl engaging her in conversation was her ticket to being accepted in with the blue and bronze crowd, so she plastered a smile on her face and politely offered her hand across the table.

"I'm Hermione Jean. I transferred here from Europe. I was relying upon Cygnus to introduce me to the other seventh years." Hermione glanced at the fair head that was buried deeply into the pages of a leather-bound tome. "I suppose I will have to take matters into my own hands."

The girl took Hermione's hand and gave it a limp dead-fish squeeze. "I am Hazel Silverman, seventh year. Tell me, what is Europe like? I've never been outside of the UK myself, but I have a cousin who goes to Durmstrang and he says it's very cold over there."

"Not where I'm from." Hermione supplied. "I lived in the south."

"Of France?" Hazel prompted. "Your accent sounds French."

"I'm French." Hermione affirmed.

"I thought so." Hazel looked thoughtful. "You transferred with the new guy in Slytherin. Is he French too?"

Hermione glanced across the room at Harry who, as if sensing her gaze upon him, glanced up from his plate and smiled. "Harry and I grew up together. We had the same tutor. But no, he is not French."

"Where is he from then?" Hazel prompted.

"Perhaps you should ask him that yourself." Cygnus had put down his book and was serving himself a slice of apple pie for dessert, his eyes on Hazel Silverman.

"He speaks!" Hermione exclaimed, clapping with excitement.

"Of course he speaks." Hazel joined in. "He just prefers reading."

"People so very rarely have anything interesting to say." Cygnus pointed out.

"Gee thanks." Hermione groused. "I've only been trying to engage you in conversation this past hour."

"Conversation about the weather is always worth ignoring." Cygnus said with a straight face. "Please note in future that conversation topics of interest are the school curriculum, particularly transfiguration and potions, the goings on of pure-blooded society and upcoming events such as Hogsmeade trips and Slug Club parties. Anything else is simply a waste of time."

"You are such a bore." Hermione teased. "Nothing in that sentence interested me."

"Now you know how I felt when you brought up the number of first years." Cygnus shot back.

"Do you two know each other or something?" Hazel asked, evidently feeling a little left out.

"I stayed with the Ganymede's over the summer." Hermione supplied. "So our paths crossed."

"Rather frequently." Cygnus added.

"Too frequently." Hermione quipped, laughing at the dry expression Cygnus shot her.

"Do you know anyone else from Ravenclaw?" Hazel asked.

Hermione ran her gaze along the length of the table in each direction, noting the sea of unfamiliar faces all chattering with their neighbours and helping themselves to seconds, before turning back to Hazel.

"Nope, just you and Cygnus."

"Well if you are in seventh year you will be sharing a dorm with myself, Esme Fell, Violetta Baum and Mary Welch." Hazel explained. "Mary is a bit odd, but the other girls are great."

"You only dislike Mary because she thrashed you at the charms OWL practicals." Cygnus pointed out.

"Well that and she has all the social graces of a gnat." Hazel affirmed. "She's a muggleborn."

"What does that have to do with anything?" Hermione asked a little too forcefully.

"It's just that she doesn't understand how the wizarding world works." Hazel had the good graces to look a little ashamed. "I didn't mean anything by it."

Students around the hall began to tiredly rise from their seats and mill toward the doors to the entrance hall, so Hermione took this opportunity to quickly glance around the room and try to locate her two friends. Cygnus was shrinking down his reading material and Hazel had jumped up to search for her own Ravenclaw posse when Hermione caught Harry's eye and waved.

Harry began pushing his way through the swarm of students destined for bed and approached Hermione. Romulus, catching on quickly, approached from the Hufflepuff table.

"Hermione." Ron reached her first and tapped her on the shoulder to garner her attention. "We should try to meet up for breakfast tomorrow."

"We can sit at my house table." Harry interjected, reaching them.

"You cannot sit at another house's table." Cygnus admonished.

"Says who?" Harry queried.

"It just isn't done." Hazel had re-joined them, a few Ravenclaw girls in tow.

"That's silly." Hermione pointed out. "How do they expect people to make friends outside of their own house if they can't sit together?"

"People don't make friends outside their own house." A blonde girl behind Hazel explained. "The houses mostly keep to themselves where friendships are concerned."

"Well I don't plan to stay away from my friends just because they're in another house." Harry was stubborn.

"You'll see your friends in classes." The blonde said as if offering a compromise.

"I'll see them whenever I want." Harry insisted, his accent evident in his tired state. "Let's meet here tomorrow morning and we can decide which table to sit at."

"Sure." Ron agreed. "I'll see you then."

The group disbanded and Hermione left with the small crowd of Blue and Bronze clad teens, following them up the grand staircase.

"How do you know the new Slytherin guy again?" Hazel asked, her face alight with curiosity.

"I told you, we grew up together." Hermione could recall already having this conversation at the dinner table. "We had the same tutor."

"But you're not together?" She prompted.

"Merlin, no!" Hermione gave her a revolted look. "Harry is like a brother to me."

"And you haven't been promised to one another?" Hazel was not letting it go.

"Harry and I are just friends. Period."

"Good." Hazel smiled, her mahogany eyes lighting up. "He'll be asking me out by the end of the week."

"Oh Hazel, not again." The blonde Ravenclaw tag-along groaned. "You are a serial Slytherin dater."

"I thought you said the houses didn't mix." Hermione pointed out. "That we couldn't sit together at meals and the like.

"There isn't a lot of inter house friendship." The blonde explained. "But there is a lot of inter house dating. Hazel here has made it her mission to marry a rich Slytherin pureblood, and spends each Hogsmeade weekend with a different one."

"Violetta!" Hazel levelled a dark glare on her friend. "Not in front of…"

"I'm Violetta Baum." The blonde interrupted, thrusting her hand into Hermione's and shaking it vigorously. "I'm the seventh year Ravenclaw prefect with Cygnus."

"Hermione Jean." Hermione smiled and turned to the other unfamiliar faces expectantly.

A petite brunette girl, almost as petite as Hermione was which was no mean feat, offered her hand and smiled a dimpled smile. "Esme Fell."

Esme had the same shade of green eyes as Violetta, and looked like a shrunk down brunette version of the taller blonde girl. It was clear they had to be related in some way, as it was unlikely that two unrelated people would share so many similarities.

"We're cousins." Violetta explained, catching the questioning look in Hermione's pale eyes. "Our mothers are sisters. I'm the better looking cousin."

"You can disregard anything Vi says." Esme spoke up, smiling sweetly. "My mother says my auntie was loud mouthed too, and it never got her far."

"I'll give you loudmouthed." Violetta pulled her wand and sent a jellylegs jinx at her small cousin.

"Quit it." Hazel snapped. "We're here."

The Ravenclaw common room was located at the top of a spiral staircase accessed from the fifth floor. A large wooden door with a carved bronze eagle head knocker restricted access, and the group of Ravenclaws, rather than knocking, all stood patiently waiting.

"How do we get in?" Hermione asked.

"Shush." Hazel admonished. "We don't want to miss it."

To Hermione's surprise the eagle shaped knocker opened its bronze beak and spoke.

"What has to be broken before you can use it?" The knocker asked.

"It's a riddle." Cygnus explained. "The way to get into the common room is to answer the riddle correctly."

"What if I don't get it right?" Hermione asked nervously.

"Then you die." Violette said straight-faced.

"Don't listen to her." Esme rolled her eyes. "You just have to wait for someone else to answer."

"What has to be broken before you can use it?" The door knocker prompted again.

"An egg." The quiet reply came from behind the group, and Hermione was startled when a girl with braided mousey hair pushed past them and through the now opened door.

"That was Mary." Hazel informed her. "See what I mean about her social graces. Not so much as a 'hello' or an 'excuse me'. She's rude."

"You did tell her if she ever spoke to you again you'd hex her." Esme pointed out evenly.

Violetta and Hazel both made a show of shushing the now second smallest of the Ravenclaw seventh years.

"It was a joke." Hazel assured Hermione. "I was teasing her. I didn't mean it."

"It sounded like you meant it." Esme muttered, skipping past the two taller girls and through the entrance hall, following Cygnus who had apparently abandoned the conversation.

"She's joking." Violetta insisted. "Hazel isn't like that. Hogwarts takes a really firm stand on bullying, so we don't want you to get the wrong idea."

"It's okay." Hermione forced a smile. "I get it. You were joking."

Hermione entered the common room and took in the décor. The room was ovular in shape with large windows giving magnificent views of the school grounds below, now blanketed with deep shadows caused by the full moon above. The ceiling was painted with stars, and overhead were exposed wooden rafters with the odd deep blue velvet curtain draped over.

A large crackling fireplace was surrounded with deep brown leather couches and by the fireplace was a statue of the house founder, Rowena Ravenclaw. A plain door to the left of the statue led to the dormitories, if the carved sign upon it was anything to go by, and between each window was a bookcase loaded with school books for students' use.

Hermione spied Cygnus sitting at a small wooden desk, already buried in books, and could see that some younger students were occupying the couches by the fireplace, chatting about their up and coming classes.

"I'll show you our dorm, if you'd like." Hazel offered, already taking Hermione's arm and steering her toward the statue. "It's on the second landing to the right."

Hermione was dragged up two twisting flights of stairs and through a door with a shining bronze number 7 emblazoned across it. Inside the room were five four poster beds, blue velvet hangings drawn open giving a clear view of a blue comforter with bronze coloured piping sewn around the edges.

Hermione spied her trunk at the end of the bed nearest the door and immediately sat down upon it, Hazel sitting on her own bed opposite and Violetta jumping onto the bed beside her friend. Hermione noted that the bed closest to what she presumed was the bathroom door already had the curtains drawn tightly closed around it, and decided that this bed most likely belonged to Mary Welch, the fifth resident of their dorm. Esme had remained behind in the common room, citing a need to study and taking over one of the desks with a small mountain of books.

"So, Hermione. Tell us about yourself."

 **Author's Note:**

 **Sorry that this chapter took forever. I found it hard trying to keep it flowing when this chapter was essentially just Hermione meeting her new school chums. I didn't want it to be endless introductions, so I threw in a little Cygnus banter to lighten the mood. I hope you enjoyed. Oh, and Happy Easter.**


	16. XVI

**Author's Note: So I am finding it hard to try and bring Ron in with Harry and Hermione because their schedules don't match up, but I will try and include the boys more. They are two thirds of a whole, after all. Also, I realize a certain Slytherin has yet to make an appearance, but I promise it will happen soon! I hope you enjoy.**

 **PREVIOUSLY:**

 _Hermione spied her trunk at the end of the bed nearest the door and immediately sat down upon it, Hazel sitting on her own bed opposite and Violetta jumping onto the bed beside her friend. Hermione noted that the bed closest to what she presumed was the bathroom door already had the curtains drawn tightly closed around it, and decided that this bed most likely belonged to Mary Welch, the fifth resident of their dorm. Esme had remained behind in the common room, citing a need to study and taking over one of the desks with a small mountain of books._

" _So, Hermione. Tell us about yourself."_

… … **. …. …. .. . . .. .**

Hermione woke and checked the time with her wand. It was at least an hour before the other girls were due to wake, so Hermione decided that it would be a good idea to get a head start on them, lest sharing one bathroom between five girls create a problem. Quietly kicking off the blue comforter, Hermione stood and tiptoed around to her locked trunk. Her Ravenclaw things, scarves jumpers and the like, had appeared the evening prior and she had safely stashed them with her second hand uniforms. Hermione selected the least ragged looking of her clothing as well as a small bag of bathroom essentials and silently darted for the door furthest from her bed, hoping not to wake anyone.

Hermione was surprised to find that the bathroom door was immovable, even as she pressed her shoulder against it and gave it a good shove. Hermione tried and retried the handle and found that the door in question did not budge still. Levelling a fearsome glare, she aimed her wand at the offending object and mentally summoned her magical strength. The door creaked open, giving in to her silent 'Alohamora', and Hermione practically pounced through the opening and quietly closed the door behind her.

"Can…Can I help you?" A voice asked from behind, and Hermione spun quickly away from the door and held her wand aloft.

It was the mousy haired girl from the night before, her dorm mate Mary, who eyed the wand dubiously. She was already dressed in her neatly pressed Ravenclaw trimmed uniform and he hair, albeit a little damp, was braided down her back and tied neatly with a dark blue ribbon. In her hands she held a plain grey dressing gown and a small grey bag of toiletries.

"Are you expecting an attack?" Mary asked, glancing between Hermione and the wand. "Or has Hazel put you up to something?"

Hermione guiltily lowered her inflexible reed wand and blushed. "Sorry. You gave me a fright."

Mary did not look placated, and her free hand instinctively moved closer to her robe pocket. "What do you want?"

"The bathroom." Hermione answered matter-of-factly, holding up her uniform and bath things as evidence. "I was trying to beat the other girls to the shower."

"I'm using the bathroom." Mary pointed out, still looking at Hermione like she had two heads.

"Yeah, sorry." Hermione gave a rueful look. "I should have realized when the bathroom was locked. I thought the door had jammed or something."

"You could have knocked." Mary pointed out, slowly withdrawing her hand from her pocket and glancing to the door.

"I didn't want to wake you." Hermione shrugged. "I thought you were still asleep in bed."

"Well I'm done now." Mary moved for the door, her slippered feet making no sound. "The bathroom is yours."

"Thanks." Hermione stepped aside to let Mary through the door. "I'm Hermione by the way."

"I know." Mary answered, closing the bathroom door firmly behind her.

Hermione shot a silent locking charm to the door and began her morning ablutions. Her hair, perhaps encouraged by the steam from the shower, took a particularly long time to persuade into a mess of curls rather than a rats' nest, and before long Hermione could hear movement in the bedroom beyond. Taking one final glance in the mirror and noting the purplish marks beneath her pale silvery eyes, Hermione nodded to herself and unlocked the door. She was immediately shoved aside by a bed-headed Hazel who began spilling piles of makeup products onto the counter.

"Morning." Hermione called, stashing her pajamas into her trunk and filling a plain book bag with her shrunken down school things.

"Morning." Came a sleepy sounding lump from the bed immediately right of Hermione's.

"Good morning." Violetta called from her bed in the middle, she was already dressed having opted to shower the night before, and was brushing her blonde hair up into a functional ponytail while simultaneously rubbing sleep from her eyes. "You look tired, Hermione."

"I am a bit. I'm going to head down to breakfast now I think." Hermione decided aloud.

"If you wait a second I'll come." Violetta offered. "You could get lost on your own."

"Oh." Hermione swallowed nervously. "Good point. I'll wait."

"Done." Violetta tied her ponytail with a dark blue ribbon and checked her reflection in a small hand mirror. "As good as it will get on the first day back."

"I'm having hair envy." Hermione pointed to her own unruly mess. "Oh how I long for a ponytail."

Violetta observed Hermione for a moment. "There isn't much you can do with those sort of curls. You could braid it or pin it up but I think a pony is out of the question."

Hermione pointed her wand to her head and muttered the now familiar spell to weave her hair into a rather lumpy braid. "It is really uncooperative this morning."

"Did you have a hot shower?" Esme poked her head out from under her comforter and gazed at Hermione with eyes smudged with day old liner.

"Yes." Hermione wondered where this was headed.

"The steam makes your hair act up." Esme informed her. "Try taking cooler showers and it should help. Also, under no circumstances can you ever brush your hair when it is dry. Only when damp and only comb it with your fingers."

"Esme's mother, older sister and younger brothers all have bright blonde crazy curls. It's a family trait." Violetta explained. "So she is the resident expert."

"I got my dad's hair, thankfully." Esme said proudly. "Boring brown and twig straight."

"I wouldn't thank him for that just yet." Violetta quipped. "Your dad is bald."

"Better bald than hair like that." Esme pointed to Hermione's head.

"Thanks." Hermione struggled to keep the sarcasm at bay.

"Okay, Let's go." Violetta jumped up from her bed and grabbed Hermione's arm, sidestepping the heater and shoving her from the dorm room. "So are you still going to try and sit with your friends?"

"Of course." Hermione nodded in affirmation. "I don't want to let them down."

Violetta nodded and steered Hermione through the common room and out the entrance. They walked the remainder of the way to the great hall in silence, Hermione taking mental notes of all of the shortcuts Violetta used so that she could find her way back to the common room on her own. When they entered the hall Hermione took a moment to scan the faces of the few early risers and realized that Harry and Ron's faces weren't jumping out at her.

"The boys aren't here yet!" She complained.

"That's okay, come sit with me." Violetta dragged Hermione into a seat halfway along the Ravenclaw table and began loading both their plates with bacon, sausages, black pudding and scrambled eggs.

"I don't think I'll be able to eat all of that." Hermione pointed out after the fifth rasher of bacon was layered onto the plate.

"Trust me, you want to stockpile the good stuff now." Violetta advised. "Once the guys arrive there will be nothing good left."

As soon as she had finished saying this three of the aforementioned boys plonked down into the seats opposite. Hermione recognized the fair head of Cygnus, as well as the other two seventh year boys she had spied briefly the night before.

"Morning." Cygnus greeted, commencing stacking meat products onto his own plate.

"How are we this morning?" Gerald Thwaites, a heavyset guy with dark hair and arms the size of tree trunks enquired, sneaking an oily fried sausage from Violetta's plate onto his own.

"Fine." Violetta replied, slapping his hand away from her breakfast as he tried to steal a second sausage.

"Has Fusun handed out the timetables yet?" Alastair Gray, this decade's answer to Percy Weasley in everything but hair color, Alastair's being light brown, enquired of them.

"Not yet." Hermione responded, glancing at the staff table and locating her new head of house. "Perhaps he will wait for the rest of the house to arrive."

"Fusun doesn't usually delay." Cygnus looked up from his breakfast and joined the conversation.

"It's hardly delaying if we are the first ones here." Hermione pointed out.

"That's a delay for Fusun." Violetta explained. "He's usually waiting by the door to hand them out."

"Maybe he just wants to enjoy his breakfast." Hermione reasoned. "You two are the prefects, why don't you go ask him?"

"We don't have time." Violetta responded. "We have to meet up with Riddle and Rosier to get our patrol schedules."

"Riddle will drag it out, he likes to make speeches." Cygnus added with a rare eye roll.

Hermione feigned disinterest, shrugged and picked at the meaty mound on her plate.

"Do you want that?" Gerald asked, already reaching across the table for Hermione's plate.

"Yes, she does." Violetta admonished. "Get your own food."

"I ate my own food already." Gerald whined, smiling when Violetta pushed some of her black pudding across the table to him. "I have to stay big and strong or they'll boot me off the team. I'm one of the Ravenclaw beaters."

"Oh, quidditch. Right, I forgot about quidditch." Hermione admitted. "Have you been on the team long?"

"Hermione!" Harry had arrived in the great hall and reached them in scarcely ten of his long legged strides. "Sorry I'm late down, the head boy kept us up late giving us a rousing speech about house image."

"You met Riddle?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Yeah." Harry squeezed himself into the seat on Hermione's other side and helped himself to her bacon. "He presented himself very well, I can see why he got head boy. The professors would love him."

"Most of them do love him." Violetta shrugged. "But I still think Cygnus and I were robbed. We'd have been great school heads."

"Are the heads always from the same house?" Hermione queried.

"They can be from two different houses." Cygnus answered. "But the faculty seem to think that having them from the same house creates a better working partnership."

"The last four years the heads have been from the same house." Alastair explained. "They were Gryffindor's last year."

"Ravenclaw's the year before." Gerald added.

"And let's not forget when Imogen Fell and Orion Black were heads." Violetta leaned in to impart her juicy gossip. "They spent the whole year making out in broom closets. Did Slytherin proud."

"Imogen Fell?" Hermione asked. "Is that Esme's older sister?"

"The very same." Violetta laughed. "She was majorly put out when Black went and got engaged to Cygnus's sister."

"Kindly leave my sister out of your gossiping." Cygnus cut in.

"Hey." Gerald was staring at Harry who had polished off the entire platter of eggs, Hermione's meat products and was onto his second bowl of porridge. "Aren't you the new guy in Slytherin?"

"The very same." Harry smiled politely, offering his hand to shake. "Harry James."

"You can't sit here!" Alastair said pompously. "You're not a Ravenclaw."

"Very astute as always, Gray." Cygnus quipped. "Harry has already informed us that he will be sitting wherever Hermione is, and since she is eating with the Ravenclaws today…"

"But it's not allowed." Alastair insisted. "You have to sit with your own house."

"Actually," Cygnus smirked, making him resemble his future Slytherin grandson Draco, "I did some research on this, and according to _Hogwarts, A History_ students are allowed to sit with another house so long as they are invited and nobody from that house has any objections."

"Well in that case." Hermione turned to her tall dark haired friend. "Harry, would you like to sit with us?"

"I'd love to, if there are no objections." Harry replied, scraping the remains of his porridge from the bowl with a spoon."

"I have none." Violetta shrugged. "The more the merrier."

"I guess it's okay." Gerald added, "So long as you are keen to discuss all things quidditch."

"Harry's more than keen. He used to play seeker." Hermione informed them.

"Aren't you a little big to be a seeker?" Gerald asked eyeing the tall European. "What team did you play for?"

"Just the local, when I was younger." Harry responded quickly. "I haven't played in years. I was thinking of trying out for the house team if they have any openings but I'll have to wait and see."

"Would you stop encouraging him, Gerald. Slytherins cannot eat at the Ravenclaw table! It's not allowed." Alastair cut in, thumping his fist to the table in frustration and sending silver breakfast cutlery flying.

"What's not allowed?" Everyone looked up to see their head of house, grey beard neatly tucked into his belt, looking down at them all.

"He's a Slytherin and he's eating at our table." Alastair blurted out.

"Well, whilst this is not technically against the rules," Fusun began. "I would recommend that Mister James return to his own house table for the time being as Professor Slughorn is handing out the class schedules."

"I've finished eating anyway." Harry stood up and stretched comically. "I'll get my timetable and then come compare with you Hermione."

"Okay." Hermione said, buttering a piece of toast. "I'll see you in a minute."

"It was a shame." Professor Fusun lamented. "I was hoping to get both Mister James and Miss Jean. Professor Slughorn won't let me hear the end of it."

"Professor?" Alastair prompted their head of house. "Were you going to hand out our timetables?"

"Oh yes, of course." Fusun stroked his beard, retucking it into his belt and then withdrawing a stack of parchment from his pocket and laying them on the table. "Take one each and your timetable will fill itself out. You know the drill."

Hermione followed the examples of her peers and grabbed a blank page and found the plain cream parchment immediately began spider webbing ink. Soon a full time table was before her, neatly labelled with her name.

"Miss Jean, as you will notice you have classes all the way to five-thirty whilst others in your year mostly have study hall. This is as we were unable to accommodate students wishing to take Arithmancy during regular school hours so we had to compromise on study time. Astronomy is twice a week from eight until ten, as Professor Danica wants her NEWT level students to get the best showing, but Professor Dippet would not compromise on students being back in their rooms by curfew." Fusun had leant in so that only Hermione could catch what he was saying. "I'd just like to say I am really thrilled to have you in my house. I was pleased with your showing in charms, and am told that there is not one professor here who was disappointed with your performance. I look forward to seeing what you have to offer."

"Er… Thank you Professor." Hermione blushed.

"Right, well I best go hand the rest of these out, the students are arriving for breakfast. Gerald, Alastair, you can help me." Fusun stood erect and purposefully headed to the entrance hall doors with a stack of blank timetable parchment at the ready, the two seventh year boys following morosely behind.

"What did Fusun say to you?" Violetta asked. "I think he cast a silencing charm or something because I didn't catch anything."

"He was explaining why my school day goes on so much longer than anyone else's." Hermione answered honestly. "Apparently taking eight NEWT level courses is above average."

"You're taking eight classes?" Violetta looked appalled. "I mean, I'm a Ravenclaw _and_ a prefect and I'm only taking six."

"I take six." Cygnus said. "Defense, Charms, Transfiguration, Potions, Ancient Runes and History of Magic."

"I dropped History of Magic." Hermione sighed. "My tutor said I had to cull or it would be _actually_ impossible to cover everything in one year."

"I'm amazed you didn't drop more." Violetta said in wonder. "Eight is a heavy work load."

"Hey there." Hermione and Violetta both spun around in their respective chairs to greet the newcomer.

"Romulus." Violetta nodded. "Welcome back from the dead."

"I wasn't dead, merely comatose…I'm told." Ron shot Hermione a questioning look. "Where's Harry. I thought we were eating together."

"Harry and I already ate." Hermione teased. "But you are welcome to join us. Harry just went to get his timetable."

"We got ours last night." Ron informed them, sitting down and looking at his remaining food options. "Where's the bacon. Our table has bacon."

"Harry ate it." Hermione shrugged. "There's fried mushrooms and tomatoes."

"I don't like mushrooms anymore." Ron groused. "I want bacon."

As if hearing his complaint, a fresh platter of breakfast fair materialized on the table before them and Ron helped himself to a relatively normal amount of food.

"So what classes do you have today?" Ron asked around a mouthful of egg.

"Double defense, double charms, double runes and then arithmancy." Hermione informed him, proffering her timetable.

"I have charms too." Ron said, pulling his own crumpled parchment from his pocket and laying it out before them. "It looks like we only share two classes."

"Herbology and Charms." Hermione noted. "You really do have a light load."

"Romulus isn't well known for his academic prowess." Violetta said, not unkindly. "But he is one hell of a seeker at quidditch."

"I play quidditch?" Ron asked, suddenly eager.

"Hasn't anyone told you. You're Hufflepuff team captain, or at least you were last year before your accident in charms. I'm guessing you still would be though." Violetta shrugged. "Hufflepuff were in line to win the Quidditch Cup last year too."

"And I'm the seeker?" Ron looked like butter would not melt in his mouth. "Seeker and Quidditch Captain. Am I head boy too?"

"Ah, no…" Violetta shot him a confused look. "Just how much damage did that spell do, anyway?"

"Oh I don't really remember anything beyond my name." Ron seemed unconcerned, but suddenly sprang to his feet, upsetting a pitcher of pumpkin juice that Hermione deftly vanished wordlessly. "I need to go. I have to go post an ad for quidditch tryouts."

"It's the first day back." Violetta was eyeing Ron like he was a crazy person.

"I know, I'm losing time!" Ron practically bolted from the hall, muttering about team lineups under his breath the whole way.

"Are all of your friend going to stop in, eat all of our food and then run off again?" Violetta asked with a bemused expression.

"Seems that way." Hermione said, glancing up to see none other than Alphard Black approaching the table. "Care to join us Alphard?"

"Me? No I already ate." Alphard waved off the invitation. "I'm here to see brother dearest."

"What can I help you with?" Cygnus set aside his transfiguration textbook and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Our lord and master has sent word." Alphard tossed a letter bearing a wax seal onto the table. "We are to grace our family with our presence at his and Walburga's engagement dinner next month. It's very appropriately scheduled for Halloween."

"Thank you, Alphard." Cygnus said dismissively, folding the letter into his book as a place minder. "Anything else?"

"Nope that was it." Alphard turned his attention onto Hermione and Violetta. "Hermione, I'd be honored if you'd accompany me to Orion's dinner. I know the family would love to see you."

"Um…" Hermione knew that she was probably the last person the head of the Black family would want at his dinner. "I'm busy Halloween. At school. The feast."

"How did you know about the feast?" Violetta asked.

"I read it in Hogwarts, A History." Hermione improvised.

"We had better go get our Prefect Schedules." Cygnus announced, rising from his spot at the table. "Best not keep the Slytherin's waiting."

"We'll see you in class." Violetta added. "I have Defense first up, too. Tell Hazel to save me a seat."

"If I see her." Hermione responded, waving off the three prefects and glancing around in search of Harry.

Hermione spotted him talking to a few Slytherins and when he caught sight of Hermione he waved her over.

"I'll talk to you about it after classes." He said to the blonde seventh year he had been in conversation with. "I promised Hermione I'd walk to class with her."

The blonde glanced at Hermione and inclined his head slightly, his silvery grey eyes taking in her appearance.

"She's a little young for you, James, isn't she?" He sneered.

"Hermione is a close family friend." Harry responded. "I'll catch you later, Malfoy."

Harry led Hermione away from the silver and green table, leaning in to whisper into her ear. "That was Grandpa Malfoy; Abraxas. I was asking him about any extracurricular activities on after school. Specifically, if there were any clubs worth joining. He was decidedly vague."

"You cannot expect him to mention the sandwich club outright." Hermione reasoned. "And I'm not entirely sure I'd be comfortable with you joining any clubs anyway."

"It was Ron's idea." Harry revealed. "He thinks it would be a good way to find the bread."

"Well I think we should further discuss this at lunch." Hermione insisted. "Breakfast was a disaster, but maybe we can sit together at lunch and make sandwich plans."

"Sure thing." Harry agreed. "But I think I should warn you. I got a look at Sandwich's schedule and he's in defense with us first thing."

"What?" Hermione turned to face Harry. "How did you get close enough to see his timetable."

"The best way to eat sandwiches is to sit with them at meals."

 **Author's note: Well, there is another chapter. This one is a lot of conversations, further introductions, and lays the groundwork for meeting sandwiches in the next chapter. I hope you enjoyed. Also, in case any of you are wondering (which you probably aren't) I actually drew up school timetables for Harry, Ron and Hermione and I have a diagram of Hermione's dorm room on my computer. I like things to be consistent, so rather than relying on memory for these things I write it all down for reference later. Enjoy.**


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